Dance of the Skeletons
by CalliopeMused
Summary: .AU. Five teenagers were in detention on the second day of school. It looked like a bad start to their senior year but that was before five Titans set out to change the town. By the end of the year, Forston will be changed, one way or another.
1. A Detention and A Delinquent

**Full Summary**: Well, actually, to be completely honest- this is the abridged version. The full list is invading nine pages of notebook paper at this raw point in development, and I'm not giving away all my twists. Basically, almost all (I'll never claim all- I'd forget something) important events from the show (that I can convert into a real setting and I consider useful for character development and the growth of a plot) are twisted into a normal universe, set loose in Forston, and used to cause general chaos. Be on the lookout for cameos of the rich and the famed from the comic book universe- what's an alternate universe without a hyper-concentration of old friends and enemies and complete strangers? With funny, sad, happy, serious, light, dark, and genuinely odd moments, they are the Teen Titans. You don't need superpowers to be heroes, but uniforms help.

**Edits: **Beginning August 27th, 2007, small changes will be made throughout the story in an attempt to weed out the glaring mistakes, smooth out plotlines, and let me figure out how on earth this story became so long.

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Just a few quick (sort of) disclaimers: 

1. Couples are not changing from my opinions. So, deal or go away. Flame me, and I'll laugh it off. I have just enough confidence in what I'm writing to not be discouraged by a flame or two. (If there are more flames than reviews, I'm either not doing well or attracting the wrong readers.)

2.** This story is rated T.** So, this is your warning. This is rated Teen- there will be physical relationships, cursing, violence and adult themes. Violence is a part of life for heroes, and some teenagers. If you still want to read the story, there will be warnings on chapters with any graphic violence, and swearing is at a minimum. Physical relationships will not progress to the stage that it will make people too uncomfortable to read, even if insinuations are made.

3. This is an **alternate universe**. So, powers, circumstances, villains, histories, events, and all other applicable canon can and will be changed to fit a fairly realistic setting. If details are slightly different, I'm taking artistic license. Not everything will be perfect- that's what happens when you make up pasts.

4. I don't own the Teen Titans. This disclaimer applies to the entire story. If there is a change in this status, I'll be sure to let you know. Got it? Good. I'll say this once more, for the last time this story: **The Teen Titans are not** **mine**. Thank you and good day (or night, or whatever it is where you are), keep being a great audience.

5. Chapter length will very. This will be a long story, and some chapters will have more happening in them. This is just a fact of fiction, especially fiction published (or close enough) so casually.

6. Constructive criticism accepted, appreciated, and noted. If a mistake somehow confuses the story, feel free to ask questions. If you ask a question in a review that merits an answer (no, plot points will not be disclosed), I'll post the response on the next chapter. Reviews help me know which parts of this story are good/could be better/are something to read while slitting wrists (well, I hope not, but you never know).

7. Forston is set in California, even if I never do find the need to state this fact. They're staying close to their origins, even if many other liberties have been taken with names, identities, pasts, likes, dislikes, and mustard.

8. _Real names_: Starfire is Kori Anders, Robin is Richard Grayson, Beast Boy is Garfield Logan, Cyborg is Victor Stone, and last but not least, Raven is Rachel Roth. This is just to clear up any confusion for those who haven't seen the Titans' real names before. Pairings are to be announced.

9. President William Howard Taft is the only (known) president to have been stuck in a White House bathtub. Now that I know I have your attention, or at least the attention of those people bored enough to read a rather lengthy author's note, enjoy the story, and thanks for humoring the rambling person.

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**Dance of the Skeletons**

Chapter One: A Detention and a Delinquent

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"You all missed the first day of school, without an excused absence." The assistant principal was not pleased. He was staying after school in a room thick with the smell of new paint (Regulation Beige, approved by schools, prisons, and psychiatric institutions everywhere). The paint's lingering fumes buried even the scent of his infamous oily hair pomade. He brushed an invisible speck of dust from a neatly ironed faded suit, attempting to glare his small group of miscreants into submission. Well, two out of five looked like pushovers. 

"Mr. Evans, I-"

He cut the unfortunate girl off. "Miss Anders, don't speak out of turn. It is known that you lack your sister's exemplary conduct. Connie was right to confess she may have given you too much information and confused you, but she did make the attempt to get you to class in time." His glare worked. Her indignant defiance faded to shame, and the dull resentment of her sister and everyone who liked Connie so much. Well, he wasn't the designated disciplinarian for nothing. The principal was far too nice and willing to "understand" students, and had even suggested that the girl should not even have this briefest of warning detentions. "Any other excuses?"

"Yes." The speaker was the smallest of the all-senior group, a scrawny teen only confirmed a member of the twelfth grade by his color-coded lanyard to hold the school ID. Green for seniors, white for juniors, black for sophomores, brown for freshman- it helped to distinguish freshmen at a distance.

"A good excuse, Mister Logan?"

"Yes." Garfield Logan was new to the school, as was Miss Anders. He was small, but willing to fight (and lose, but that was a little known fact until someone actually did fight him). "I was in the hospital. One of my guardians called you to inform the offices that I was having a few tests run, but you hung up."

Mr. Evans fixed him with his fiercest look. The kid quailed, but after a few seconds of determined staring. "Shelia Young is not the most . . . stable of people."

Garfield glowered, but didn't respond to the insult with a fight. He kept his cool. "Shelia Young is my foster mother, Mr. Evans, and has been judged fit by the state." He left the bad history between Nurse Young and Mr. Evans out of it.

The principal moved on, choosing the next likely target. Save the known trouble spots for last, after all. "Victor Stone, do you have a better reason?"

The only response was an impassive look, which finally gave way to a verbal answer. The captain of the varsity soccer team was not easily intimidated by Mr. Evans, when the other two assistant principals and the main principal were on his side. "Let Miss Anderson have a chance."

"It's Kori," Miss Anderson said with a shyly grateful smile. "There was no confusion," she said, gaining a little courage. "Connie said she would wake me in time to make the bus. She did not." She didn't give into any amount of disapproving looks, when someone else would support her.

Victor didn't smile, but looked much less unreachable. He'd made Evans back off, the least he could do. It wasn't right to pick on someone smaller, just because you could. There weren't many people bigger than him, so his philosophy was close to universal. "Electricity in my house was out. My father was doing an experiment and blew all fuses and cooked the phone lines. He left a message two hours ago in the attendance office, Mr. Evans."

Mr. Evans blustered, but couldn't find a problem or insubordination in the careful speech. Well, easier mark first- either of the last two could prove difficult. "Mr. Grayson, we meet again."

The response was a meant-to-be-inarticulate mutter. It contained several words that weren't acceptable by the Language Guidelines he had written just last year and posted industriously in every classroom, next to the Guidelines for a Successful Year (also authored by Evans himself). Grayson also used a few more unpleasant words that Evans had never heard before. He would have to update his Guidelines. "I was busy."

Mr. Evans allowed a hint of a smile to fall in place. He was going in for the kill. "According to the call from your house, you were watching television, tuned to a History channel special of some sort."

Richard yawned. "Was it? I was sleeping, which is more productive than this dump."

Mr. Evans would get nothing more from Richard, who had been casually diagnosed as an antisocial psychopath. He had a final target, often implicated by crying cheerleaders, football players, intellectuals, Goths, and all other clique name-bearing kids for verbal abuse. She didn't discriminate. No one was safe from her venom, as she had proved for the last three years of high school. Teachers bore the worst of it. "Miss Rachel Roth."

She had a face that was rumored to have been frozen in place when Nefretiri died. She was pretty enough, by all hushed opinions of guys who would rather live another day without her finding the weakest part of her ego. She had reduced an up-and-coming star linebacker to tears when he tried asked her out the year before. She had been a freshman coming from eight years of home school. The football player didn't have a chance. The stray kind souls to attempt including her in any way had been brutally shot down. She didn't take handouts.

"I plead the fifth, Mr. Richards." That was her trademark response to almost every allegation. She always would admit to whatever it was she was accused of. She just couldn't be bothered to care what it was. It was her answer to why her hair was dyed purple, her eyes were violet, why her skin looked gray, why she was always such a freak (or Goth, or bitch, or heartless demon), and what she had said _this _time.

Instead, she drew complex figures of lines across the inside of her arm, tracing with a finger. She could hardly say what she had been doing during the hours the school thought they deserved. That was her business. She could imagine the look on Evans's face- on all of their faces- if she said what she had been doing. Then, she would have a few more titles added to her list. She wouldn't look forward to any of them, or the looks people would give her.

Mr. Evans considered. _What to do, what to do- _he didn't want to deal with them, the room was far too hot, the window was stuck, high school students would often form a temporary alliance against any disciplinary figure- he had it. "You will discuss why you were late, and how to ensure that this doesn't happen again. Once you all sign the statement form, you will be free to go- just send someone with it to my office." _Perfect. _Not too bad of an arrangement, if he did say so himself. They could deal with the two most frequent visitors to his office, he could have a break- and be paid for dealing with the kids on double-paid overtime. Life was good.

Kori waited until Mr. Evans had let the door to the tiny Supplementary Classroom close before smiling at the others. "I just will not trust Connie. She's nine and a half months older than me, and is usually responsible for bad things happening to me." Losing her shyness, she reeked of optimistic enthusiasm.

Gar shrugged. "I was in the local hospital's emergency room. He doesn't like Shelia because she helped his wife find a good divorce lawyer."

"The ER? What for?" Victor asked.

Gar shrugged again, this time looking uncomfortable. "I had some weird symptoms. I was there for a series of tests, a few precautionary extra meds, a quick check-up; nothing major."

Obviously, the guy didn't want to talk about it. Vic dropped the subject. "My dad has the whole basement for a lab, and is trying out electromagnetic treatments on different diseases. He screwed up the power levels, but it won't happen again."

Kori laughed, smile springing naturally to her face. "What did your mother say?"

Vic tried to not let his expression change. She was too sensitive to see the last remnants of anger from what had happened. "They split four and a half years ago, but she would have been down there with him. She's still in research."

"I'm sorry," Kori apologized, blushing. "I didn't-"

"I know. It's fine, Kori." He looked at a scowling Richard. "Your dad lets you watch History Channel instead of going to school?" Victor moved the attention away from Kori. She needed the break.

"My dad is dead, and wouldn't have cared. All my mom did for me was try to name me something my father didn't approve of. My uncle has given up on me, and I'm Forest Gates's resident juvenile delinquent." The rich gated community in the center of Forston, home of the Forston High School Falcons, wasn't any more fond of him. His tone left no room for apologies.

Rachel slowly let her gaze wander over three expectant and one apathetic face. "I had something better to do." They weren't buying it, with that little emotion. Time to lie. "Christiana- that's my mom- needed me to take her to her obstetrician. Raoul's out of town, and the housekeeper doesn't drive. My mom doesn't want anyone to know about the baby yet." There. Typical names, circumstances, and events. It wasn't remotely true.

"So, we can leave now?" Richard asked.

Rachel didn't answer. She signed the assistant principal's form and left. Richard followed, going the opposite way once he maneuvered through a narrow doorway. Kori expressed wishes to see the two again, not-so-discretely catching a final glance of Richard before signing the slip of paper and walking away.

"Wow. Somebody warned me about an ice demon, when I was registering for class, but she looked completely frozen." Well, she was unmistakable- _purple hair, purple eyes, can't miss her, avoid at all costs. _

"She's not that bad," Victor said.

"What?" He hadn't expected anyone to defend her.

"I met her when she was five. She still had the same hair and eyes. She isn't shy, really; she just doesn't like people. I still play soccer with her, whenever she comes around."

It could just be his size, but Gar considered Victor a pretty big guy, and large collections of muscles didn't hurt the idea that Victor could knock Gar out without any problem at all. "Soccer? I'd expect-"

"Football, or basketball. I'm okay at them, but soccer's my sport. My dad wishes I played something a little more- traditional, I guess, but I like soccer."

"You still play? With her, I mean?" If she wasn't going to bite his head off if he tagged along, maybe he could try this new game. He had heard that soccer was one of few contact sports where size wasn't too big of a handicap, even if the smallest players could be sent flying by a legal shoulder.

"Not often. Ever since freshman year, all she's done in public is lash out at anyone who gets too close. She comes over every six, seven weeks- on Saturday, if she's coming. She doesn't say, I don't ask. We just play soccer. You ever play before?"

"I've played soccer on GameStation, when I lived with fosters that had a system."

Victor grinned, shaking his head. "It's different in person. You're going to be a smear on my lawn after ten minutes. I play offensively, she always defends. She steals the ball and runs with it- if I score on her twice an hour, it's a good day. After figuring out ways to face her, people think I'm some prodigy when I do the same to an opponent's defense. You can come over to play GS, to try and get an idea of how it works before playing real time." He hadn't missed a rare look pass through Gar's eyes when he looked at Rachel. Not many were naïve, foolish, or new enough to even consider such thoughts.

"I need practice?" Gar asked, signing his name on the line to show he had been present for a Cautionary Attendance Meeting.

"Unless you want to be laughed off the field, that would be a yes."

"After school, tomorrow?"

"Sounds good." Vic scrawled his name on the last line. "I'll call you with directions." He jotted the number Gar dictated onto a scrap of paper. "Tomorrow, grass stain."

"Tomorrow," he agreed. Vic took the sheet to the assistant, and Gar slipped out the side door to start walking home. He had a few miles to go, to get out of Forest Gates and into the borderline poor part of Forston. He saw a flashy car that had to be Vic's, by the soccer cleats on the dash. He had a friend already. For a foster shrimp, that was a new record.

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**.Richard Grayson.  
**Richard was not the golden boy of the block. He wasn't even close to bronze. If he was near the awards podium, it was probably to knock someone flat on their back. In the Neighborhood's class consciousness, he was the Juvenile Delinquent Who Will End Up In Jail. He made no effort to change their minds. His social worker had been overjoyed to find his uncle a week after Richard's father "disappeared." Richard had liked his father. They had shared more than one good time. He wouldn't have minded that the entire neighborhood knew his son's age and status in the criminal justice system. His father would have been proud of a son that slashed the tires of a school official he frequently had problems with. Evans would know who it had been, but there was no proof.

Richard's father had taught him how to fight as soon as he could walk. He had never been involved in martial arts- pansy fighting, in his father's opinion. Instead, he learned the ways of fighting his father used. Street-fighting meant that the smallest kid could use speed and cleverness to beat out anyone. As he grew stronger, he learned how to use that, punching and kicking and disarming opponents.

At six, he had learned how to fight with guns. He could steal a gun, dodge bullets (rubber ones for practice, of course- nasty welts, but a mistake wouldn't be deadly), use a stolen gun, and had marksmanship that the Marines would probably accept. He had to be good. His father's one goal in his son was to make him a fighter, so he could defend himself. Richard could never bring himself to let his father down.

At seven, he was the only first grader who didn't back away from sixth graders on the playground. Four of them jumped him after school once, after he called them brutes not worthy of his time. Three were unconscious and one was sobbing "uncle" when the teachers and principal ran to break up the fight.

He still remembered sitting in the office, swinging his legs in the most cavalier way possible, waiting for his dad to arrive. He was nervous, not that he would ever admit it. He had been a little sloppy with the second, and had a glancing bruise on his shoulder. And- what if his father had changed his mind? The teacher, a smiling and demure young lady who had looked ready to burst with happiness at the sight of children to teach, had told him fighting was against The Rules, which were Not To Be Broken. She spoke to him as if he were seven. He was used to being talked to as an adult, so the rules (with no capitals, in his opinion) had been disregarded.

He needn't have worried. His father was proud of him, even if he said the appropriate words and nodded gravely at his teacher's speech. Richard could tell. His father's hand was on his shoulder, with just enough pressure to show the touch wasn't accidental. Affectionate physical contact was very rare. His father took him home early, promising better behavior the next day. In the car and out of sight of administrators happy to have solved a Problem, his father requested a play-by-play.

He hadn't been at all disappointed about the bruise. He had taken a look at the boys to ambush his son. Four against one meant that the accepted testimony was that Richard started it. Looking at the damage, it seemed more than possible. His father hadn't minded. Instead, he told his son that he was proud of him. Fighting wasn't nice, he explained, but sometimes it was the only way to keep your head above water.

Two weeks passed, with Richard had kept his nose clean in school and moved onto wrestling and close-quarters fighting with his father, before the unthinkable happened. His father didn't come home.

Richard had always known that his father had an odd schedule. He would disappear for days, and come back with gunshot wounds and presents. But he never lied. If his father said two o'clock Thursday, he meant two o'clock on the dot on Thursday. If he said he was proud of him, he meant it, and Richard knew that he could be happy. His father had a different job than most parents, but it paid the bills, and more than that.

He still remembered his last phone call. He had asked why he didn't have a mother- in class that day, they had learned about families. His father had told him that his mom had died just after he was born, from injuries completely unrelated to Richard. She had wanted to name him Robin, but his father had disagreed. That had been the last time he spoke to her- after that, she had hemorrhaged severely from a bullet wound. His father kept a tough front, and Richard had never seen him cry- but he had also never seen him date like the friends that had come over once in awhile.

Richard walked himself to and from school, and had his own key no one else was to see. Seven-year-olds usually couldn't watch themselves. He prided himself on it. He had a schedule. He would get himself up with a blast of radio from the alarm clock, get dressed, eat cereal for breakfast, put away the dishes, pack a lunch or take money from the folder his father left, and practice his latest set of exercises. After school, there was more practice, dinner (usually microwave-heated canned pasta), work on reading with his father's gun manuals, and then go to bed. A simple schedule, but it was enough.

He was home early on Thursday, a half day of school. He worked on his wrestling, practiced sharp-shooting in the basement range, and made sure the box of bandages was open and accessible. He was sitting by the window at 1:30 P.M., ready for his father to come home. At 2:01, he was nervous. At 9:00, he knew that something had happened. He knew what to do. He went to bed, slept however uneasily, and went to school as if nothing had happened.

Four and a half weeks later, there was no news. The house had one can of processed food left, and he was out of money. Richard had exhausted the envelope of funds, however miserly he had spent. He stayed after class to speak to the teacher, and calmly informed her that his father hadn't been home for over a month.

Two days later, Richard Grayson arrived at his uncle's house with two suitcases, a large trust fund, and a longing for his old hobbies. They had confiscated all guns, knives, manuals, trash, and writing samples. His uncle was not pleased to take in an obviously violent child. Richard had quickly adapted to the new house rules. If he stayed in his room, his uncle wouldn't give him disapproving speeches and try to get him to open up and act like a normal kid, whatever that was.

He let the door to the elaborate house slam behind him. "I'm home," he called to the empty house, dropping his backpack on the bench by the front door. His uncle hated that- by morning, it would be neatly hanging in the closet. He found the usual note on the kitchen table, recycled from a few weeks ago daily. A few grease spots made the paper transparent, but the message was common. _Busy day of work, don't wait up for me, there's money for delivery on the fridge. _Richard picked up the phone. Pizza again- just like usual. He hadn't had a break in his routine for years. Practice fighting he hardly ever used in his room, order in pizza, go to school, watch people stop talking whenever he came too close, and scour the History channel specials about the modern Mafia. His father might come up someday, and he wouldn't miss him. That was the only gap in the usual day that he looked forward to, just one welcome change. But maybe- after ten years- another change might not be so bad.


	2. Reading Titles

**Chapter Two: Reading Titles**  
School was much easier when there were people to connect with. Kori, Gar, and Vic discovered in their homeroom that they all had the same lunch period. Rachel was also in that lunch, but kept her space at a private table no one else approached. Richard wasn't as good at maintaining space, and his usual table was overrun by computer nerds. Overall, he preferred them to the usual collection of people he attracted. His group was small enough to be a little scared of him- not enough to stay away, but enough to not stare or try to involve him in conversations about gigabytes. 

Vic and Gar were quickly friends. Victor liked not scaring somebody, and having someone at his level in GameStation. Gar was more than happy to have a friend, especially one that found the occasional joke funny. Victor's father was working in his company's lab, so Victor's house was always open for video games. Victor never mentioned Garfield's house. If he was invited, he would accept. If not . . . his house wouldn't hurt from occasional occupation. Besides, a guy could only play video games alone so many times. It was much more satisfying to flaunt high scores against a grouching opponent still adapting to his controllers.

Kori had tried coming over once, but she didn't enjoy their favorite video games at all. She still sat at their lunch table, occasionally trying to follow talk about Mega Monkeys VII. For her benefit, they would discuss movies instead. She knew more about politics than they would have guessed- one day, just for variety, they had a mock-debate. Everyone held their own Friday. The debate would have gone on longer, but Kori had to leave for a weekend trip. She mentioned something about her sister, and that was all.

**.Soccer.  
**Saturday started like any other day. Gar walked over to the house a little after noon, after helping Shelia with weekend chores. Victor had a pair of nets in his backyard- they would play one-on-one, casual warm-up.

They had a decent start. Gar quickly figured out that no one side of the net was better to block. Vic's right foot was for balance. With his left, the ball was directed into doing things Gar had doubted possible. No matter what trajectory Victor picked, or how many times he tried to kick softly, impact left bruises with a distinct octagonal pattern. Well, they would turn out interesting.

After playing for forty minutes, the score was Victor 17, Gar 1. The one goal Garfield scored had come after Victor's particularly spectacular wipeout. Garfield ran down the field with the ball, popping it into the net before Victor had a chance to even stand up. Gar's one advantage was getting up quickly after falling down.

Rachel walked into the yard, opening the side gate without bothering to see if anyone was there. She disliked the front hall, for reasons not explained. Whatever the reason, for eleven years she had been walking in the side gate at two o' clock on the Saturdays she felt like playing soccer.

"Vic-" she started to say. Then she saw someone else, playing soccer with the ball she had brought a few months ago. The old one was a bit too battered to go completely straight, and had been retired to Victor's shed. She recognized this kid. Vaguely greenish skin, scrawny, annoying grin- it was that guy from detention, the new kid. "I see you have other company." She was ready to leave the yard. No one else had ever come before. Maybe Victor decided he wanted to keep other company. She wouldn't blame him.

"Play with us, Rachel? You against the two of us- it might be fairer, considering how many times you steal the ball and just wait for me to overbalance."

She considered. "I'll stay. He's new, and those are my old cleats. Maybe they'll be lucky for him."

"What?" Garfield asked indignantly. What was this, some kind of joke?

Rachel answered for the only person she considered a friend. "Relax. Soccer cleats are unisex. Besides, they're purple on black. That's not the worst combination out there."

Looking into violet eyes with black pupils, doubting the color combination didn't seem like a smart idea. "Ready to play?"

She didn't answer with words. Instead, she used a twist of her ankle Gar couldn't follow to kick the ball into the air, head-butting it to Victor. Vic took off towards the goal closest to the fence. Rachel followed after giving him a brief head start, focused entirely on her opponent.

Gar had thought he was quick. She was no ice demon- speed demoness would be more appropriate. She left divots in the lawn tearing after whoever was in possession. She toed the ball off Vic's right foot, avoiding the left, kicked it downfield, and was charging past Gar before he could think of cowering away from a juggernaut with a soccer ball.

She only shook her head with a patented Rachel-style death glare when he asked how she could run like that and who had taught her. Victor shot him a look- _don't go there. _Once Gar stopped thinking about questions, his fledgling skill at soccer improved.

Rachel wasn't playing her hardest, but only Victor knew. When she had let him score four goals and stopped only two within ten minutes, he did something new. He didn't retrieve the ball after she scored a sloppy goal, clipping the goalpost. He left the ball. There was something more important.

"Rachel, what's wrong? You can't tell me you're not kicking my ass because you feel sorry for the grass stain over there."

Vic ignored familiar muttering from Gar, who didn't appreciate the nickname and was trying to find one suitable for Vic. He had admitted that it was better than shrimp, if only because he'd been one of the smallest kids in his grade all his life. Grass stain, however annoying, was at least original.

"Nothing," she snapped, fixing her death glare on Victor for the first time in years. Last time, he had asked why she was more violent than usual after she had literally impaled a soccer ball on sharp cleats.

"Rachel, we're honest. I've never lied to you, you've never lied to me. Last time, you trusted me." After the death glare, he hadn't backed down. She had finally let him know that she was frustrated about her parent's marriage. He had heard stories about Raoul and Christiana since she was nine, and her mother had just miscarried again. Raoul wanted a boy, but he had Rachel. She had never looked close to getting emotional- she could have been reading a grocery list for all the inflection she used.

She didn't soften the glare. "I fell. Yesterday. My ankle's stiff." She took the ball from the net herself, ignoring the fact that she was wearing jeans on a hot August day, she had wrapped her ankle in bandages, and that she never fell- unless someone pushed.

Victor hadn't expected anything else. He had his suspicions about Raoul, but they were based on feelings instead of evidence. He left her statement as it was, remembering her words. Maybe, in a few more years, he'd have an idea about what her life was like outside his backyard. In a few years- he'd be gone, off to some college, and Rachel would be... he had no idea. She never shared her nightmares, and her dreams were under even tighter wraps. She hadn't mentioned those since she was eight, when she had spoken briefly of going professional for soccer- even then she had sounded bittersweet about the idea.

Gar didn't know what Victor had taken from the exchange. All he knew was that Rachel took off with the ball without giving Vic a hint of the head start, literally dribbling circles around the both of them, sent the ball in a clean arc just below the top goalpost, and then left without another word.

"That is Rachel," Victor told Garfield, after there was a safe pause. "She's not an ice demon. She's the girl who will beat you at soccer, and not even have the decency to gloat. She's horrible at basketball, though." It was one of the very few things he had on her. She was quick to stop that boast, if he reminded her- glares were multi-purpose. He never had suggested tackle football, just in case she was good at it. She left enough bruises in soccer, and he gave as good as he got.

"I think she needs to smile."

Victor gave him a skeptical look. From calling her an ice demon to deciding she needed to smile- well, at least that was a step forward. "I've never seen her smile the usual way. Usually, you just can see that she isn't glaring or looking past you. She's most relaxed while she's running- not competing, just running."

"I'll get her to smile, sometime."

Victor shrugged. "Your funeral. She won't be happy about it."

He only grinned, looking less pale than usual. "She will once I get through to her. She will."

"Whatever, Garfield. Want to go lose Mega Monkeys Seven again?"

"In your dreams- I'm beating you this time."

**.Rachel Roth.  
**Rachel Roth walked through the front door of her house. She crossed a foyer similar to every other entranceway of the richest blocks of town. This one was sterile, void of picture or rugs or anything but white marble tile and perfect white walls- too close to Victor's house for comfort, but without pictures and the occasional shoe or discarded paper with research-related equations scribbled over a grocery list.

The housekeeper was sitting in the immaculate monochromatic seating room, cleaning her impressive collection of guns. Her black uniform blended in with the decorating scheme, as did her weapons. The sight was common enough that Rachel didn't bother to look. She heard the fine-grained sandpaper, and the distinct sound of polish on a clean gun. Home sweet home.

Screams and pleading slipped out of a "soundproof" room. Her father was working, then. It was always obvious when some "business associate" crossed him. She found a wan, still woman sitting on the couch just below the landing of the house's grand staircase.

"What is it, mother?" Rachel asked, monotone never slipping. Her father might hear her. He wasn't about to have emotion in his daughter. She needed to be strong, he said, and emotion was for the weak. Her lies of Raoul and Christiana were beyond this place. All that was true was that her father wanted a son to inherit, and Arella wasn't producing a child that lived through the entire nine months any longer. Arella was now too weak to carry a baby to term, not that her father noticed.

"Your father-" he was always her father, never "my husband" or his name- "wanted to take me to a benefit for businesses who are supporting his favorite candidate for Senator."

"Translation: he wants to show you off in front of terrified, nervous businessmen paying through the nose to be a part of his protection racket."

"Raven, don't!" Arella cringed, imagining the trouble her daughter was inviting. She never called her daughter by the name on her birth certificate. To Arella, when no one else would hear, her daughter was Raven. Rachel had never had the heart to ask why, when the most prominent clue was a poem she had memorized at the age of seven. Arella had said that she had known someone named Lenore, and that was the most Raven had ever heard of her mother's past. "Please- he just hit you yesterday, with that golf club-"

"That was this morning, during practice, and he'll be busy for a while. His current victim just told a stupid lie." Good.. That would give her time to change into boots and bind her ankle properly. Her father thought medical care was for the weak, too, but she had learned how to make stitches and wrap sprains.

"Never for long," she said softly. "Nothing lasts forever." Arella stood slowly.

"Good night, mother," she said, though it was a little past four in the afternoon. Her mother usually disappeared after a quarter to five, flitting off to the bedroom her husband sometimes shared with her, brushing her hair in the hopes that he would come to her.

"Don't make him mad, Raven. For me?"

Rachel couldn't control a momentary softening of her default condescending glare and thundercloud frown. Arella was skin and bones, bruised from rough handling, and hadn't been outside for longer than Rachel could remember.

Victor's backyard had been her only recreation besides carefully controlled training, where she was always careful to hold back. Rachel would be good enough that her father mostly left her alone, not so talented that he took interest. After she was eight, Victor's yard was her only escape. He had tried to find out what she was running from- all he ever would hear was stories of Raoul and Christiana, her imperfect but loving parents who had the best of intentions. He could think she was a spoiled rich kid trying to drive her distant parents crazy. Lies didn't hurt as much.

She climbed a second staircase, only five stairs high. The stairs were shell pink porcelain with a few scattered bullet holes surrounded by delicate spider-web cracks. The bullet holes were never fixed- it was an accurate representation of how her father had taken power. He was the leader of the local chapter of organized crime. The average person wouldn't know, but the gangs that fought each other so frequently outside the gates of the safe part of town were all working for him. Distracted with that blight, the public didn't see how many cops he had in his pocket. The few that weren't were too busy to investigate him. Trigon made sure of it.

She made her way to the other side of the massive house. It would have been silent, except for the muted _click _of the housekeeper checking the unloaded chambers of an old-fashioned revolver, whimpers in answer to a cold query, and the faint sound of tissues being pulled from a box.

She slammed the mahogany door to her room. The sound, muffled by the vast house, still reached everyone. She locked the door behind her. No one came to her wing of the house, but small rebellions were the easiest.

She picked up the one heirloom she had from Arella, an elaborate mirror her father had never known of. Arella kept very few secrets, but she kept those few. Rachel would never need to worry about her father knowing she had a treasured possession.

She looked at the face that stared back at her. Purple hair- who had that? Violet eyes were no more standard. Her face would forever have a gray cast. Like a corpse, people said. She knew people sometimes looked twice, sometimes thought that she was beautiful (in a dead body sort of way, any foolish enough to say so out loud quickly added to amend the statement). She may have been a little too diligent in her role. Ice Queen, Creepy Bitch, Evil Goth, and Demoness Extraordinaire. What else could a teenage girl want?

She threw the mirror across the room, as she had done many times before. It never shattered. She could only guess that her luck was bad enough. All she had was the occasional soccer match- going too often was risky, would send the wrong message, might make her think of how much time she spent alone. Until she thought about how much time she spent sitting in her quiet room, she could convince herself that she enjoyed solitude. She was an expert at lying, to herself and others.

That was enough. She sat on her bed, neatly made with crisp hospital corners, decorated only with solid black pillows against purple sheets. She crossed her legs, bringing them as close as she could to her body, elbows rested on her knees, palms up, fingers curled gently as if she could summon the solution to her many problems. Breathing slowly and counting without thinking of numbers, she let all thoughts slip away, leaving her mind empty and finally serene.

One memory took longer than expected to clear, words no one thought she had heard. That detention- she had stopped for a drink of water at the fountain, just after deciding to go for an impromptu run. Dry throats didn't make for a good jog, or sprint, depending on how she felt. _Somebody warned me about an ice demon, but she was frozen. _That hadn't been about Kori, Richard wasn't female, and there were two left in the room. That was all she had needed to hear- if Victor was going to agree, she didn't want to know.

She strove to be ice. She should be pleased, that someone would know this after meeting her once. She had changed from Steam to Water to Ice- and would be Stone, after just a few months of training, emotions locked in the subconscious, the mind unsullied. This was a harsh discipline, something she did in secret. The Book of Azar was not a toy, and one of the few expensive things she bothered to own.

When she felt, when she cried, when people began to mean something to her- people got hurt. Trigon would not have emotional garbage (_weakness, that's all it is, weakness)_ in his house. Arella could cry only in secret. Raven could never let herself get into the habit of showing emotions, as the smallest slip while at home could be catastrophic. People always got hurt, or hurt her first. That was just how the world worked. People hurt each other.

Looking across the room after she finished meditating, she could see her mirror. Her expression was perfect. Frozen, unapproachable, and with just a hint of condescension. Reaching under her pillow, she found her Book and turned to the next chapter. She only had eighteen chapters to go. Eighteen chapters, about ten weeks- soon, she wouldn't feel anything.

**.Kori Anders.  
**Kori Anders was also staring at a mirror. She tried to frown. It didn't look right. She tried her fiercest glare. _That's a girl, Kori. The animated rabbits- you know, the little fluffy ones from bad television programs- will now run in fear. _She didn't like being unhappy. Well, she supposed no one did, but she was supposed to be happy. She was in civilization. She had a comfortable bed. She didn't have to worry about getting diseases most people didn't know still existed, diseases most people had never been taught about. She had enough food to eat, every day, and if she wanted mustard, which had been a rare condiment in places where salt was white gold, she could have mustard.

She had been smiling to hide discomfort since she was eleven. That had not been a good year. Her sister had still been with her parents, in the latest exotic locale. This time, there was a problem. In the middle of the night, strangers snuck into the hut her parents had been allocated and led her away. They threatened to kill her and her sister if she made a sound. The weapons at their throats were threat enough. Connie had just started screaming when she was hit over the head with a blow just short of deadly force.

Kori remembered those weeks. She never had talked about them. For two years after that, she would not talk to her parents. She still didn't think they had noticed. They had found Connie, crying and scarred and . . . different. Connie had never been the same. Once, they had been friends and sisters. Now, Kori was the little sister Connie couldn't wait to get away from and, luck holding, humiliate before the smaller sister was sent on her way. Her parents and the other rescuers had not found her, twenty feet away- Connie hadn't told them all she knew. Kori had been forced to wait for someone else to rescue her, the one friend she kept after Connie's ordeal. It was never her ordeal. If it was remembered that she was there, the fact quickly slipped away to think of the one who had Suffered.

Connie had said that Kori had been left alone. That was a lie. Kori was unconscious for three days after It had happened, which did not seem a sign that she had gotten off easily. But Connie had a way with words, a merciless talent for twisting people around her little finger. Kori was more than a little awkward around anyone Connie had met. The few times Kori had gone to conventional school with her sister, she had left crying. Any friends she made were stolen away by Connie, just for spite.

Kori could hear the sounds of a party seeping through the floor. Connie's annual Back to School Bash. That was an event Connie invited her entire year to, even though every other popular person showed up. Kori wasn't given nearly as many privileges. Connie's parents (sometimes they were hers, too, but Connie took the spotlight with an ease Kori could never duplicate) were trying to ease the memory of nightmares that woke Connie screaming at night. Kori was different. She never screamed. She never made a sound.

She would wake up, face drenched in tears and pillow crusted with salt, curled on the rug she had placed next to the nice bed that should be welcomed, after so many years away from all such civilization. But- was this civilization? People still hurt each other, people looked down on anyone who didn't live like them, people didn't like each other.

She laid back on her bed, closing her eyes. She shoved back memories of Them. Instead- she would remember Ken. That was the right thing to do. She pulled a faded postcard from its place of honor beneath her pillow. Connie couldn't know. She had stolen precious items before, flaunting her skill at manipulating parents. Connie made it seem that Kori had been withholding whatever the item was, something obviously that rightfully belonged with Connie. Kori still wanted her dream-net back from where it rested in a place of honor at the foot of Connie's bed, an insult to its maker.

She drifted off to sleep, ignoring the pounding bass Connie had so helpfully set up just beneath her bed the next floor down. She dreamed that she wasn't in civilization. She wasn't on a feather bed, luxurious in expense. She was lying awake on a bumpy reed mat, waiting for the sound of a purring lion that meant it was time to go. There was nothing like Africa at night, when her guide could wrestle a lion, if needed, and avoid the haunts of predators. In Africa, when she looked at the sky- she could see the stars. Not just the easy marks- Orion's belt, Cassiopeia's lopsided W of a throne, Cygnus. In a place where all lights were off at night, looking at the sky as it spread around her- she believed she could fly, and her closest friend had never discouraged that belief. Why would he? He had felt it, too.

* * *

"If you can't get rid of the skeleton in your closet, you'd best teach it to dance." –George Bernard Shaw. 


	3. Mystery Meat and a Meeting

**Chapter Three: Mystery Meat and a Meeting

* * *

**

**.Monday.  
**Richard Grayson did not like Forston High School. He did not like Mondays. He did not like that his uncle always seemed to be busy, or that his uncle had left money for school lunch. He did not like school lunch, eating school lunch with other people- or eating alone, not that he had to worry about that. Someone was always there, even if they weren't there for him. They wanted an empty table, which he didn't like even more than eating with people. The lesser of two dislikes, he'd guess.

"Excuse me?"

He also did not like polite voices interrupting his grumblings. He turned his glare- not as infamous as the patented Rachel Roth death glare, but good enough for his purposes- to the new arrival. "Yes?"

Kori smiled as if his response hadn't been an unenthusiastic syllable. "Has the seat across from you been previously claimed for occupancy?" Victor had only shrugged when she told him she would be sitting with someone new. When he saw which direction she was looking, he let her try without a single warning. Who knew? Maybe she'd manage. If Richard did send her away, Victor would have a few back stories to show that Kori wasn't alone in that rejection.

Richard took a second to translate, then another to decide. She might be less annoying than the usual crowd, and no one had asked for a long time. If she was irritating, she could leave. "Knock yourself out."

"Why? If you do not wish for me to be in a close proximity to you, you could say so." Kori hid her hurt, but not very well. She was much better at expressing emotions than hiding them, even if she didn't feel completely happy.

_Great. Just my luck. The girl doesn't speak English. _"It's an expression. Go ahead, because I don't care."

Her smile resumed being far too bright, especially for a Monday morning with the smell of some over-processed lunch product wafting through air stale with high school students. She sat down, set her tray on the table, and began to eat.

He watched the way someone watches an execution, or a particularly gory bit of footage from some History channel special. She was . . . eating the cafeteria food, and seemed to be enjoying it. He couldn't look away as she breezed through the dreaded Monday Mystery Meat on a Stale Bun, Soggy yet Undercooked Corn, Unidentified Fruit Cup (pear, soggy apple, bleached pineapple, or pale peach? The brown bits just might be bananas- that's all one chemistry student figured out before giving up in disgust), and Burnt Brownie a la Heat Lamp.

He had to ask. A one-time deal, he reasoned. He wasn't curious about other people. He didn't care about other people. Just ask his uncle. This was about cafeteria food. "How can you eat this stuff?"

She shrugged. "I've eaten worse. I eat whatever's put in front of me. Usually, that's all that is available. Some places aren't rich enough to afford food of even this dubious quality." The corn had looked a little green, but not paying attention to it helped.

He looked her over for the first time. Nice hair that didn't have a hint of a split end, brand-name clothes worn at the elbows in the wrong place, scraggly manicured nails. Rich, but not the favorite daughter. That was one of his rare likes- figuring out someone by deduction. "That explains why you don't understand American colloquialisms."

Her smile only became happier. He hadn't thought it was possible. "Yes. I know English from books and limited conversations with some people who knew the language."

"You know other languages?" The question was in the open before he considered.

"Nothing fluently. I know a little Chinese, some Swahili, a little Seminole, I'm pretty good at Portuguese and Spanish, and I'm taking French in school to add to the other languages that don't translate well at all. Swahili is only spoken in some areas of Africa- the tribal languages are all a little bit different, with dialects. I only know enough for basic conversation in most languages."

"So, you're pretty well traveled and can converse with many people, but you don't know the common phrases, odd sayings, and usual insults."

She nodded. "Exactly."

Richard was about to say something else when the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. He had never been disappointed to move on before. Was her presence a one-day deal? He wasn't going to ask. He was the loner who had just started a conversation near the end of the lunch period. She hadn't tried to start a thing.

He disappeared into the crowd of students. He saw Rachel Roth across the room, reading without any real interest at a pristinely empty table. He watched as Victor Stone, one of the few jocks to never give someone a hard time (unless they deserved it- Richard had witnessed Stone very emphatically convincing a basketball player that he would not treat his girlfriend 'that way,' whatever that meant, again. The guy in the jersey had known). He passed by her table, watching some scrawny kid he thought he recognized getting close to the forbidden table.

Richard only shook his head when the guy (what was the name? He remembered the face) tried talking to Rachel. He couldn't hear what she said, but she never looked away from the book she couldn't care less about and the kid walked away looking a bit crestfallen. Some people never learned. And, as much as he hated to admit it- he hoped Kori wouldn't learn from other people how much of a wild card he was, and that she would come back.

**.Tuesday.  
**She did. He let her finish her meal before saying anything, smiling crookedly at the enthusiasm that seemed to apply to everything she did. He tried the Jell-O-mold style meatloaf, gagging down a few bites. Maybe she had a tolerance for everything usually found disgusting, including the mustard artificially colored to be bright enough to be offensively unnatural she squirted all over her meatloaf. She had a talent for dealing with what most students couldn't stand- cafeteria food, his company.

"Who is your sister?" he asked, the first thing that came to his mind. He remembered his quick assessment from yesterday, that she was a younger and not-as-favored sibling.

She kept smiling, but the expression wavered. "Connie Anders, who is also a senior. She is quite popular, in the terms of your society. Perhaps you know her?"

Most people wouldn't have seen through Kori's act, obviously a continuing effort. Richard had been keeping up his act since he was seven. "I thought so. Not a nice girl."

Kori blinked, her only response to the statement she had needed to hear for seven-odd years. "Really? You truly believe so?"

"Really. You're new here, right?"

"Yes."

"Now, I usually wouldn't do this, but I'll tell you who's nice and who's not. I'll even tell the truth."

"That would be joyous, friend Richard."

To his credit, he didn't cringe. He collected himself. She wouldn't take his usual comments well, and he didn't want to make her cry. This was an odd thought, but she wasn't on some other agenda. Maybe he could use a friend, if only to shut his uncle up.

"First things, Kori." He'd ignore 'joyous' and 'friend Richard' for now. Maybe she'd grow out of it, maybe he'd just get used to it. "If you're looking for friends in the area- where do you live?"

"Maple Court."

"If you're into athletics, Victor Stone's a good guy."

Kori interrupted. "I know him. I was sitting with him at lunch until this week, but he and Garfield prefer to discuss video games. Besides, I wanted to sit over here."

He saved that comment, not letting any sign escape that he had wanted to hear that for a long time. No one had wanted to sit with him since- he couldn't remember a time someone had, actually. "Did you see him? He just saved the small guy's life."

"What do you mean? All he has done is confiscated a straw and little bits of paper. Why should shooting the wads of spit cause him mortal bodily harm?"

Richard took a moment to translate- he'd definitely need to adapt to her way of speaking, if she was this set in speaking with odd syntax. "Because the target apparent is Rachel Roth, and Garfield Logan doesn't want to die."

"Perhaps she also wishes for a friend."

"No. She doesn't. She's the school's resident Ice Queen."

"Just like you're the juvenile delinquent who always wants to be alone?"

How could a girl that naïve know what most people never figured out? "No, nothing like that."

She picked up her tray. "I'll sit with you tomorrow," she promised, carrying it away laden only with a slice of pie of some unknown origin. Probable theories ranged from moon rocks, for the crust, to subterranean lava for the filling, cooled into flakes. Others were more pragmatic, saying the school bought food the hospital chucked out.

Richard only watched as she crossed the cafeteria, politely asking to get through crowded areas when most people would have shoved. She had a small audience of aware people, increasing as she drew closer to Rachel. Everyone remembered the last girl who had sat there. No guy had dared after the warning tales from her freshman year. By the time Kori took a seat and took up a spork, she had a good portion of the crowded room looking past her. Everyone was waiting for Rachel's reaction.

Rachel closed her book, sliding a few inches of black satin ribbon between the pages she had stopped reading. She stared at Kori, a wordless accusation, and met completely guileless eyes. Remembering all training in finding deceit and hidden truths, Rachel tried to find some flaw. She only saw . . . Kori.

Rachel didn't say a word. She simply re-opened her book and began reading, occasionally sipping from a flimsy paper cup. Everyone knew Rachel Roth drank herbal tea- no one had ever seen her eat, at school or otherwise, just like everyone knew that the bathroom on the second floor, next to the janitor's closet, was reserved for smokers. A commonplace knowledge of her likes and dislikes didn't help her gain friends, but it kept people away. The student body let out a collective sigh- partly relieved for the sake of the lucky sap, mostly disappointed for the lack of a scene.

Rachel didn't smile, but Victor did. The rate this was going, they just might have a two-on-two next Saturday. Maybe, just maybe, Garfield's foolish dream of seeing Rachel smile might not be completely unreachable. That, or Gar was just crazy. The latter was probable, but five minutes ago he would have called Rachel's chances of a tablemate zero.

**.Wednesday.  
**Rachel didn't know how it had happened. She had accepted Kori, guessing the girl was after some peace. Rachel's table was quiet, and the surrounding tables usually didn't get too loud. She hadn't guessed Kori would return the next day, Richard Grayson in tow, or that she would spend twenty-seven minutes listening to Kori draw Richard out of his shell. It was interesting, to say the least. That could be the most social interaction she'd had in years, and Kori was kind enough to not involve her host.

Victor met her after lunch that day. Outside of banter during soccer, they had always kept their distance. Rachel wasn't looking for anything outside of that, Victor was more than willing to respect her wishes. Playing against her was the best practice he got, and he knew she needed someone. "Rachel," he began simply, testing the waters.

"Victor." He'd never harassed her, or asked why she asked so coldly in school but would talk to him some Saturdays. She paused at the doors of the cafeteria, leaning against a beige wall. She'd give him a chance.

"How much bodily harm would you inflict if I sat at your table Friday? I'll let you have just Kori and Richard tomorrow."

"Not much. Who else would I play soccer with, if I broke you?"

Victor kept a smile back, but memorized the look. Her eyes smiled, just a little, like they did in a good game. "Gar's coming, too. The little guy." He waited. He wouldn't push her.

She considered. "Trial period. Four other people should be more than enough."

"Thanks, Rachel. I'll try to keep him in line."

"You do that." That look in her eyes was gone like it had never happened, but Victor remembered.

**.Thursday.  
**Victor wasn't in school. He knew he wouldn't be. Today was The Anniversary, the fifth year after The Accident had happened. This meant that he would not be having a pleasant day. Instead of just dragging himself through the usual classes, with breaks where he could talk to friends, he would be dragging himself through an entire day of Derek.

His mother was there. This was the one day a year he was guaranteed to see her. Christmas? She could be researching. Easter? She could be at a conference. Summer? There were less distractions in her lab. She would stop in on random days, sometimes, just to see her son. He could see mental measuring tapes whipping around him, deciding he was a pretty good kid . . . but Derek had been better. Forget the past tense- her perfect oldest son _was _better.

He chose his outfit carefully. Dressy, but not formal enough that he was trying to outdo his brother. Casual, but not laidback enough that he was disrespecting his brother. Well, he didn't have to worry about hair. Having none of it meant that was easy. After The Accident, he had been pretty badly scarred over enough of the scalp that only a few new procedures with dye left him from having a very interesting pattern of pink scars all across his head. As it was, he wouldn't be experimenting with hair, and would have to accept bald as close enough to beautiful.

Long pants, of course. He never wore shorts, not even for soccer. He was the one player allowed out of the standard uniform, a direct exemption from the commissioner for a special case. Only a few people knew why. For everyone else, they could just assume that he was special. That was the right word, all right. He chose from a row of identical dress slacks, all pressed and ready for the anniversary.

The shirt didn't have to be long-sleeved, but it would send the right message. Now for a color- red was too much like blood, blue was the color of the car, Derek had been wearing white, and- gray would be perfect. Black was too much in mourning (as he had learned last year), but gray should be safe. Dark socks, dress shoes- tie or no tie? After considering, he chose a darker gray number with thin maroon stripes.

Now, the perfect expression. Somber, but not too grieving. There. Now, to meet the parents. There wouldn't be any soccer or video games today, with his mother clinging all over him. He could see the cars lined up outside his house, the one gathering that his father hosted. He had seen smaller amounts of cars lined up for Connie's yearly party, one he never attended despite annual invitations. He was the only captain of a sport, varsity or otherwise, to never make an appearance.

He descended the stairs into a silent throng of people. His father found him quickly, patting his back awkwardly. Victor could swear he had mouthed "good luck." Next, the yearly tradition. His mother would cry into his shirt, straighten his tie, wail about how his brother should be here- something was wrong. His mother was smiling, and trying not to, as a man Victor recognized whispered something he did not want to hear. That was her research partner- her new research partner, after his parents split.

He saw a very prominent ring on the hand his mother waved in front of his face. It was gold, with a very eye-catching and very large diamond. He looked away from his mother and her beaming new husband, catching his father's reaction. There wasn't any.

"Isn't this wonderful, honey? Dennis already said that you'll be the best man. He doesn't have much of a family, so you can bring some friends to be groomsmen and bridesmaids and the like. My sister's matron of honor, so you can just find however many friends you like." She was smiling, the happiest he had seen her since that morning five years ago, when Derek passed his driving test with flying colors.

"Yeah, mom." _Okay, this is awkward. No sob-fest? Wait- spoke to soon. _His mother's eyes filled with tears. This time, however, she didn't launch herself at Victor, or her ex-husband. This time, she latched onto Dennis, who looked far too natural murmuring into her ear. He left to greet a few scattered uncles and aunts, and many of his parents' research colleagues, just late enough to hear her wish that Derek could be there.

He didn't say it. He didn't say that if Derek was alive, this collection of uncomfortable adults in formal clothing wouldn't be happening. He didn't say that if Derek was still around, Victor would be completely invisible, that the Forston Falcons would have had the first freshman (and then sophomore) first-string varsity football player for two more years. If Derek was alive, the basketball team would have a record-setting scorer for four years. If Derek was alive, there would have been a different valedictorian. If Derek were alive, he would be dominating the attention in the house from some college, one of many that sent agents to recruit him all through his senior year. A particularly ambitious college representative had been the one to court promises of paying insurance on the nice little car that Derek had chosen for his sixteenth birthday.

If Derek were alive, Victor would still have parents, when they would occasionally make time for their second son. Before the accident, research had meant less than family. Now, escaping reality for a precious few minutes was more important than hard reminders of the past. Victor, as he had been tearfully praised by his mother, was an "easy child." This meant that, if left to his own devices, laws wouldn't be broken, the house would remain intact, and there would be no consequences to plan. He was easy to ignore.

He left the gathering early, for the first time. He had always stayed until the bitter end. But this year, he wouldn't stand it. His parents had moved on. So could he. His brother had crashed the brand-new Mustang convertible into the gate that separated the nice section of town from the beginnings of dereliction, speeding through the sensors that meant the gate would open. His brother hadn't the patience to let the gate open- he had tried to jump the gun, like so many others had done in side-screeching feats of bravery. The metal gate covered in decorative enamel had been meant to withstand a direct hit from a Mack truck. The dark blue Mustang had crumpled.

The coroner conjectured that Derek had died instantly. That wasn't true. Through the blue haze he associated with the incident and the passenger seat, a blur of memory that his three visits to a psychiatrist had assured him was the body's way of coping, he remembered Derek screaming. Victor still couldn't remember if he'd said anything. All he remembered was looking directly at an aghast firefighter, and seeing police hold back gathering crowds that recognized Derek Stone's car. The firefighters needed the jaws of life to get him out and rush him to a hospital. Derek never had that chance.

Victor left through the sliding glass door, crossing the patio and ignoring a guilty couple who had been finding other ways to amuse themselves. They quickly retreated inside at the sight of the littler brother. He was alone in the yard- or not.

Rachel was in the yard, as if she had known just when he would need something familiar.

"I won't even try to empathize. I'm an only child. I've never lost a relative. But if you want to forget for a while, we can play without nets."

He hadn't guessed that Rachel would be waiting, but maybe he should have. The soccer nets were taken down, and waiting in the shed. The yard had to look perfect and untouched, just like the other patches of grass in the area. Rachel had brought a soccer ball, shiny-bright with a clear coating. He couldn't move on, but for an hour or two, he could go in a different direction. "Sure. Your possession first."

And so, for the first time in his life, he had fun on his brother's birthday. If that was a horrible thing to do- he was in excellent company. He didn't ask if she had watched every year, she didn't ask why he had changed his routine. Sometimes, just doing it is enough.

**.Friday.  
**Kori, Victor, and Garfield kept the conversation going that Friday. Garfield hadn't been in school Wednesday or Thursday, and had clammed up when Kori asked a friendly question about the absence. He didn't want to talk about it, and didn't give as much as a hint. Kori moved on, keeping Richard involved in the conversation, using barely any effort to keep him with the group. Victor knew that Rachel sitting at the table reading and ignoring them was progress- he had told Kori not to push her, just to make sure. Richard had enough trouble keeping up with Kori's stream of chatter. That left the one person unoccupied and foolish enough to try drawing Rachel out.

"What about you, Rae?" he asked, breaking away from his monologue in a debate about the best television show ever made. "Which would you pick?"

She glared. He flinched away instantly- she was much scarier than an assistant principal could ever be. "Don't call me 'Rae.' My name is Rachel. I know two syllables may be hard for you to comprehend, but please try. And I do not watch television." She had one in her room. It was a lovely dust trap.

He tried again a few minutes later, after abruptly switching the topic to women's soccer. "Who's your favorite player, Rachel? Mia Hamm? Brandi Chastain?"

_Let's see- he's named the most famous female soccer player in the United States, and the girl known for taking off her shirt when the U.S. won the World Cup in- '99, I think it may have been. _"Brianna Scurry," she said aloud. "She doesn't get enough credit."

Victor and Kori had heard of Rachel's choice, the goalie for the shoot-out at the end of the World Cup. He kept tabs on good players, gender and position played ignored. She had lived in Mexico. There, soccer was like _futbol americano- _it was the big sport in town.

"Do you play?" Rachel asked Kori, catching a look of recognition.

"_Sí. _In an area that is heavily into the sport, everyone does. I learned in Mexico."

Victor saw where Rachel was leading. "Stop by my house next Saturday, Kori. I'm on Sycamore, the boulevard that connects with Oak Park. Go through the gate to the right of the house- white-washed wood planks. Can't miss it. You up for soccer, Richard?"

He shrugged. "I've played American football. I'll handle it."

"We'll see." Rachel was teasing him, a rare occurrence. There wasn't a speck of poison in her monotone.

"Yeah, me 'n Rachel'll take you all!" Gar taunted.

"No." Rachel finished her tea and gathered her stack of textbooks. "Kori and _I _will be a team." Victor had enough experience to counter Rachel's speed, and Robin moved sometimes like he had training to his credit.

"Are you sure?" Richard asked. "I mean, teams should be fair."

"At two, then." Rachel left, depositing a crumpled cup into the trash.

Gar watched her, putting his trash into a brown paper bag. Victor caught a glance of leftover-

"Tofu," Gar supplied helpfully at the disgusted look on Victor's face. "Want some?"

Victor gagged. "I had a roast beef sandwich, man, and I'm not about to lose it. You and your fake food can keep far away from me."

Gar shrugged. "Your loss. Who knows, maybe it'll help me keep up with Kori tomorrow." He exchanged smiles with Kori and Victor. Richard frowned.

"So, who's keeping up with Rachel?"

"We'll see tomorrow," Victor promised.


	4. Grass, A Pizzeria, and Tofu

_Let's see- no real need for an author's note, I'm pretty sure I finally have all names typed correctly (don't worry, it'll get more confusing, name-wise, very quickly), but I'll ramble anyway. But not for long- enjoy. Thanks for this chapter goes to Luke, my lab partner for AP Biology, who provided the horrible jokes. That will be his contribution to the story- dr.evil99 remains chief partner in crime for getting characters into themselves. But still, a round of applause for Luke! (The sound of crickets and a few apple-shiners clapping is heard.)Okay, fine. Just read the story, then._

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**Chapter Four: Green Grass, A Pink Pizzeria, and Tofu Spaghetti

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**_"Are we sure she's human?" Richard asked, breathing heavily and trying not to show it. He had been playing for an hour and a half. He was used to physical activity- but he was best at lifting weights, fighting, bracing against recoil- not steadily running and dodging and trying to steal an object roughly the size of his head, using only his feet. 

Kori laughed. "No." She watched- Rachel was facing Victor and Garfield as Richard waited for circulation to return to his foot, and Kori was catching her breath. A very persuasive kick had convinced him to relinquish the ball, and stop comments he had thought inaudible.

Rachel dodged Gar's latest attempt to kick the ball away. He looked ready to drop, and was definitely having trouble breathing. She kicked the hall, not waiting for it to ricochet from the shed door before dropping flat onto her back, hands behind her neck as she stared nonchalantly at the sky.

Victor joined her, taking up a little more space. This was their sign for I'm-ready-to-breathe, usually only used after a few hours. She was fine. Gar was not. He punched Gar's arm when a third person joined the group, heads at the center of a lopsided arrangement of teenagers. "You can say you're tired, grass stain. You look pretty green."

"That's just the lawn," Gar retorted. "I mean, this is probably a huge achievement in the color green, and we're ripping at it with cleats."

Kori was next, laughing as she kicked well-worn soccer shoes with red clay embedded around the cleats into the air. "That's what lawns are meant for, are they not? In Mexico, we played wherever there wasn't too much traffic."

"Not at my house," Richard grumbled, keeping a distance. "It's for decoration and to be harped at about mowing the stuff."

"So, Richard, still think kicking like a girl is an insult worthy of bestowing on Garfield?" Rachel asked, unable to convey false innocence in a monotone despite her best efforts. Still, the question lent itself a certain inflection.

"That _hurt,_ Rachel. Do you have lead in that show or something?"

"No. The one thing my father has given me is ten years of lessons in kickboxing, running, and strength training."

"Do you even have a weakness?" Gar asked, doubting she could.

"Yes."

Kori was the one to move away from that topic, bringing up the possibility of pizza. Rachel was gone before the question was finished, her quota of company more than met for the day. Tomorrow, she'd go for a proper run. She hadn't done that in a while. Gar refused offers of someone else paying for him, saying he didn't eat pizza.

**.Pizza- Need I Say Anything Else?.  
**Kori, Richard, and Victor ended up at Angelina's Pizzerina, a place Kori literally dragged Victor and Richard into. The rhyming name was enough to make them avoid the place, but Kori insisted and could be just as bull-headed as Richard, when she felt the need. Victor wisely decided to not get involved, and just ended up following the quarreling pair. The outside of the small establishment was simple, a red-brick front with cheerful curtains in the windows faded to white by sunlight. Thefluorescent sign spelled out the name in curling pink letters, forming a border for a pizza sketched in neon lighting.

Once seated, the boys began to like the idea- the scent of pizza was strong, even if the décor was a bit pink for their tastes. Richard shifted uncomfortably on a frilled seat while Victor gave a skeptical look to the wallpaper border of the place, whimsical and fantastical creatures all cavorting happily. He had lived with his father for a few years with no maternal presence, and she had never been into overdosing on pink.

Kori smiled as she watched their conversation suddenly halt when a waitress (uniformed, of course, in the trademark pink of the Pizzerina) brought a large meat-lover's pie to their table. They tore into the pizza, dripping home-grown tomato sauce onto provided pink-rimmed napkins. When it was gone, she had a simple question she already knew the answer to. "Verdict?"

"Too good for words," they said at the same time, surprised to be thinking alike.

"I never thought I'd really have friends here- I've never fit in," Kori confessed.

Vic snorted. "And I do? We're in the middle of a rather snooty bit of suburbia, where most ancestry is blue-blooded. My parents made money off some cutting-edge research. Until I was three, we lived in an apartment."

Richard tried his impassivity. "My uncle doesn't know how to deal with kids. He's your typical white-collar worker, with the entire basement as an office I'm not allowed near, like I'd want to peek at old tax records he signed a confidentiality agreement on."

"Richard? Victor? The man next in line at the cash register has a gun in his back pocket," Kori whispered urgently, interrupting a fledging conversation, face perfectly contrasting her words. She didn't want to give away the fact that she could easily recognize a gun, even if she'd never had the displeasure of touching one. There was no need to alert the would-be robber.

Victor picked up the bill, sidling over to the line. Maybe it was the spur of the moment, maybe he'd been ready. The instant the man growled the usual ultimatum at a wide-eyed cashier, Victor performed a neat punch to a very sensitive nerve point. The man wouldn't be getting up for an hour at the least. He insisted on paying, but did accept an offer of free pizza for the next time when Angelina prodded. Maybe Garfield would show up, if he wasn't on anyone else's bill.

Richard and Kori didn't as much as blink as they left. "You know," Victor said, only half joking, "the hero gig isn't so bad- nice benefits for a part-time job."

**.Sunday.  
**She had been out for a run, a way to clear her head- it was Sunday, and this was the closest to church she came. There was nothing for herto worry about, with her defense classes. She was very talented at staring down the attempted muggers, rapists, and con men so common outside the rich part of town, and taking care of those not smart enough to back away. Quickly. There were three zones in Forston, population mostly uncounted in the once-a-decade Census. There was the rich neighborhood, kept immaculate by the hired workers necessary for Forest Gates to survive. There was the not-that-rich scattering of houses on the outskirts of the gated community, near the school just inside the large gate. Then, there was the rest of the town, dingy and grey and depressing.

The rest of the town was controlled by small gangs rivaling for better consideration from the leader. There was one man who controlled all gangs, the local organized crime, and all petty thieves through fear, dues, and a quick staff force. Trigon, the terror of all unfortunate enough to know of him. He never showed his face in public. All work was left to his second-in-command, a man known only as Slade.

The thoughts were not those of an average girl, especially the average well-dressed girl with professional shoes made to lessen stress to feet while running. She carried a prototype model of electronic progress, playing favored songs at the perfect volume. Except for interesting shades in her hair and eyes, she could have been any average teenage girl. Of course, Rachel Roth was not the average teenage girl. She had few ways to relieve stress, and soccer was only fun with an opponent. It never occurred to her to visit Victor on a Sunday.

Rachel glanced at her pedometer, one that doubled as a clock. She'd been running for an hour, and had covered a little over nine miles. The track coaches kept pressuring her to join the team. That wasn't her concern. She had been drilled in running, both endurance and sprints, since just before she could walk. This was as easy as breathing, but she could use a water break. It was August, and sticky heat invaded the best of running shirts. Rachel wasn't a fan of the just-a-sports-bra look, to the disappointment of the many to sneak glances at her as she ran by. Sometimes, the risks of outright ogling were greater than the benefits.

She stopped at a run-down pharmacy and grocery store. She had been here before to pick up a sealed bottle of water- she wouldn't trust them for anything else. She made her way to the back corner where water was displayed on dusty shelves, in the hope a passing shopper would find some needed item on the way to basic necessities. She was about to pass a noisy alcove when she saw a familiar figure in the bottle-return area of the store, a cramped place with room only for the three classic machines labeled Cans, Plastic, and Glass.

Rachel had never noticed people returning such things before. She wasn't ignorant. She knew that all drinks sold in bottles or cans came with a deposit in the purchase price, something like five or ten cents a bottle- she never had checked. That was the American government's effort to encourage recycling, and profit off those who didn't. Rachel had never been concerned with pocket change. Why should she, when her little-used allowance was higher than the average family's income?

She saw him politely asking the sullen attendant to fix the machine. From the resigned look on her acquaintance's face, this was a common problem. Can machines frequently jammed, or filled with bottles. Until the problem was solved, Garfield would have to wait. Obviously, he had been waiting awhile. The machine was letting out a repetitive and plaintive beep, whining that it was jammed. The problem was undoubtedly easy to fix. The worker was undoubtedly not about to concern himself with a ragged customer, though it seemed to be a little more personal from a self-satisfied sneer.

"Excuse me," Rachel said politely to the worker. She looked at the plastic name badge pinned haphazardly to a very yellow shirt. Dirt smudged over the illegible name. "I was wondering if you'd be fixing that machine for my friend. After all, it is your job."

The man blanched at the simple monotone. "Yes ma'am, of course." He said it too quickly, the sight of her making him act oddly. "I'll get to it right away." Rachel walked away before Gar could say a word, returning with her desired bottle of water. She returned after the machine was working properly.

"Thanks," Gar told her, trying not to draw attention to the fact that he had just watched an old rival crumple under the calm look of someone he barely knew, and was now putting cans into the machine. "That guy doesn't like me- my foster mom told the police he was getting a bit too friendly with a previous foster child of hers."

Rachel watched him. Well, she might as well be polite. "Want me to do the plastic?" He nodded, and she accepted his assent. It looked simple enough, by faded pictures and the instructions on a cracked digital read-out. Insert bottle bottom-first, wait for lit arrows on the doorway over the chute to turn green, and then repeat until finished. When done, press the green button for a receipt. Not rocket science, though the machine was complex enough to do something other than count bottles. "He looks like he needs a talking-to about being polite. I doubt he'll be too much trouble." There was some other meaning behind her near-toneless words, but she skipped over it quickly.

He didn't dwell on it. "So, what brings you all the way over here?" He tried and failed to ignore her state-of-the-art clothes, from shoes to the micro-earphones still in place.

"I was running. You come to this grocery often?" She hated small-talk. Well, she could leave whenever. It wouldn't hurt her to be polite- too badly, at least.

"Whenever my foster mom needs something. Shelia and Harry- that's my foster parents names, when they don't respond to mom or dad, don't have much time for errands. I'm picking up Harry's pills from the pharmacy, my refills, and Shelia needed me to pick up a few things for her." He watched her reaction even as he kept feeding cans into the machine. Some were more than a little dented and worn, obviously found on the street.

Rachel blinked, her only response. Gar was telling her this why? No one usually confided in her. Most people dropped her as a friend soon, saying that she was cold, morbid, and untrusting. This was usually because she didn't show emotion, didn't talk about her parents, and never let anyone over to her house. Victor was an exception, but he was just used to her, more than likely. She was convinced the rest of the tablemates would be moving on within a week or two.

She couldn't think of something to say. Her usual cutting sarcasm would be rude, when he was only being sociable. She finished her bottles as he put glass through the third machine, and handed him the receipt. The slip of paper was already flaked with dirt, a simple thing with just a barcode and $1.05 printed on it.

He didn't look at all embarrassed by his shopping. He found a tube of hemorrhoid cream, a few bottles of vitamins, a vial of nasty-looking prescription medication, two bottles with his name in blurred print and a gallon of milk. She watched, curious. It was like observing some new process, and the grubby grocery list he consulted was a paltry Rosetta stone, her way to figure out how other people lived.

Gar paid at the register. Under Rachel's careful watch, the same disgruntled employee didn't even try to give Garfield the usual hassle. Gar didn't watch as she used a very large bill for a very small bottle of water, she didn't watch as he counted out coins she would throw away from an old-fashioned clasp wallet that didn't belong to him, unless he liked pink hydrangeas on accessories. Somehow, she doubted it.

Before Rachel could remember who she was (Rachel Roth, ice queen, known for shooting people down and scaring the excrement out of any and all people, especially peers and teachers), he had invited her to visit. He hurriedly explained that it wasn't much, that there wouldn't be much to do, and that he didn't want to force her into anything she didn't want to do. Rachel tried to remember the last time anyone had asked her over to their house. She had been six, and playing soccer at the park- she and Victor had continued their game at his house. She hadn't needed to tell anyone. She had been wandering the neighborhood alone since she was four. Against all better judgment, Rachel accepted Gar's offer.

She carried one of his bags. He tried, out of some odd chivalry, to carry both and the wallet. She took the heavier bag from his hands, discovering it was the bulkier of the two when she heard the slosh of the gallon of milk. The weight was more than she was used to carrying. The housekeeper did all shopping at her home, as well as putting meals together, cleaning, taking messages, organizing meetings for businessmen, and making sure bills were paid on time.

Rachel was ready to hand off the bag and leave. This wasn't right. She didn't belong in this little neighborhood, where the dogs' ribs showed through scraggly hair and the cats looked more than a little feral. The children they past were hollow-eyed, and too many didn't seem to own shoes. Hypodermic syringes littered the curbside, and one faded old user was rolling back his sleeve as they passed. It was a completely different world than sunny Forest Gates, where all grass was kept trimmed to precisely two-and-seven-tenths inches, judged the optimum height for appearance, never performance.

But- she'd come this far. She ran through these neighborhoods for the change in scenery, after all, to go somewhere where her surroundings weren't perfect, and where speed mattered more than perfect form and waving to all neighbors to keep up the guise that all residents of the richest section of town were happy. So, she stuck it out and made it to the front door of his apartment, up the concrete steps covered in layers of crude graffiti barely visible beneath a no-nonsense coat of whitewash faded by time and footsteps. He twisted the handle and kicked a worn spot in the paint at the same time, popping the door open with practiced ease.

Rachel was used to immaculate homes, peace, quiet, and housekeepers greeting guests at the door, snooty or welcoming or somewhere in between. She was not used to two babies screaming through the thin wall that separated one room from the neighbor's house, a very worn-out older man sprawled on the couch snoring from behind a book that was resting on his nose, and the phone ringing shrilly with no one answering it.

Gar was used to the worn old place. He'd lived there for just two months, but was already attached to the place. Money was tight, but the foster parents were looking to help someone known for being a difficult case, not the extra check in the mailbox. Besides, being an only child wasn't too bad. His caseworker had promised that he was there for the full year, that these fosters wouldn't shunt him away after a week or three. Shelia and Harry were long-term foster parents, and would see him off to college. He had the grades for it, after all, even if the state wouldn't pay anything but a fraction. "Right through here, Rachel- the groceries can just go in the kitchen. I'm back, Harry," he called to the man on the couch. Harry's snores didn't alter, but a hand waved sleepily.

A hassled woman seemed to come out of nowhere to wrap him in a hug, trailing a spiraling phone cord connected to the kitchen wall. "Gar, sweetie, thank heavens you're back early- I guess that Adonis boy didn't give you a hard time today. Good- you have enough to deal with without that slob. They need me at the hospital- Kathy from the oncology wing just said that your test results are in, and I need to talk to her before I start my shift." She was the slightest bit overweight, and had a generous amount of gray hairs at her temples. She checked her watch, and then noticed Rachel, who was still holding groceries against her still-clean running tank top.

"Oh, you brought home a friend? I'm sorry I can't talk- maybe next time. Gar, you know where medicines go, and the spaghetti noodles just need another minute. The sauce is ready- just turn the heat off after everyone's had some." She found keys on the labeled hook. "See you after my shift, Gar, Harry, and-" she listened as Garfield supplied a name- "Miss Rachel. Charmed, really, but I can't be late."

She waded through the mess of newspapers strewn about the front room, blew her husband a kiss, and a minute later, the rumbling of an old car in desperate need of a muffler could be heard roaring down the street. Gar took her grocery bag, for the first time looking a little awkward as he considered what his small family would look like to others. He was used to such a place, and had seen worse. She hadn't.

He set the table with mismatched and chipped plates, silverware that was mostly intact, and scratched plastic cups. Rachel's home had elegant china, real silver cutlery, and matched elaborate glasses kept gleaming by their housekeeper. Gar dished out food like an old pro. Before Rachel knew what he was doing, he had a plate portioned out for her.

"Take a seat- Shelia would kill me, not feeding a guest. She's up for promotion at the hospital. Harry's starting a new job as a mechanic tomorrow, after just two months of being laid off- that's why we have so many newspapers lying around, but they'll all be gone tomorrow. Besides, how else can I impress you with my cooking skills?" He grinned, the strange smile that had puzzled her two weeks ago (had it been that long already?). He skipped over anything that could be found embarrassing, passing by the topics before she could register them. "I made the sauce earlier- well, made some of it."

"Fine." This was an experiment, to see if a cold Goth could fit in a normal life. She didn't think it was possible, but maybe it was. She wouldn't be changing herself. That would void the entire idea, the concept that she could fit in.

The smile returned. "Shelia and Harry eat vegan- I do, too. I try to be vegetarian, at least, but many fosters don't like the extra trouble. You can get used to tofu. This kind of spaghetti sauce tastes like it has meat in it, and is as natural as tofu can get."

"Key words, Gar. Key words." Tofu was not a natural substitute for meat. Rachel watched Gar greet his foster-father. He might as well be a father, the way the two hugged casually. He saw her, but waited until he was sitting at the table with a meal in front of him while Gar poured the milk.

"And just who is this, Garfield?" Harry asked. Awake, he looked younger, and the wrinkles in his hands less defined.

"I'm Rachel. Rachel Roth," she said, a little awkwardly. People usually gave her odd looks for her unique hair color. She didn't get it either, but she wouldn't put experimental treatments on an infant past her father. She offered a hand.

He shook it with a gusto that unnerved her before she realized that he meant it. "Glad to meet you, Rachel. You're the first person Gar's brought here, and you'll have to come back if we don't scare you too much. Shelia will want to meet you."

Rachel had no idea what to say. If they didn't scare her? The man hadn't even given her hair a second look, or tried to see hints of nonexistent contacts in her eyes. Besides at lunch tables where she had always sat alone or fancy dinners where only her father talked, she usually ate alone at the kitchen counter. What was one supposed to talk about over spaghetti?

Apparently, whatever came to mind was the topic for the day. Harry and Garfield (she had never heard of anyone else always using his full name) chatted happily, discussing everything from mechanics to school to the pharmacy to television to comparing the latest in bad jokes.

"Why did the chicken cross the playground?" Gar challenged, beginning what Rachel could only term a Battle of the Really Bad Jokes.

"To get to the other slide," Harry said instantly. "Which side of a chicken has more feathers?"

"The outside. What kind of music does a dragon like to play?"

"Scales. Why did someone hear symphonies played backwards at Beethoven's grave?"

"He was decomposing. What did the digital clock say to his mother?"

"'Look, ma! No hands!' Two muffins were in an oven. The first one said, 'Is it hot in here, or is it just me?' The second muffin said-"

"'Look! A talking muffin!' What does Wild Bill always look for in a bakery?"

"Buffaloaves. Why did Bill throw a bucket of water out the window?"

"He wanted to see a waterfall. How do you catch a tame rabbit?"

"Unique up on it. How do you catch a unique rabbit?"

"Tame way. Unique up on it. Why do elephants paint their toenails red?"

Harry wracked his brain. He hadn't heard that one before. After a dramatic few moments of fierce contemplation, he lowered his head. "Haven't heard that one, Gar."

"So they can hide in cherry trees!" Garfield announced triumphantly. He caught Rachel rolling her eyes. "Come on, you know it works. How many times have you seen an elephant hiding in a cherry tree?"

Rachel ignored his question. Time to move on. "So, jokes are done. What do you think about the movie coming out next week?"

She wasn't quite sure how it worked, but she was participating in a conversation. She still made sarcastic digs at Gar, which he brushed off without looking hurt. He even attempted to get her with a few plays on words. It was a remarkable fight, for a newcomer, so she only slightly slaughtered him verbally. Harry was immune- nice as he was, he was an adult. She couldn't get too close to one- she knew what they were like, a little too well.

She put her plate in the sink at twelve minutes to nine. If she ran, she would make it home before her father did, and have no questions to answer. "I've had a great time, really. I just- need to get home, so my mom doesn't worry. She's home tonight, so we were going to spend time together." It was a plausible lie.

"What do you and Christiana do?" Harry asked, genuinely curious. He had a quick introduction to the fictional couple of Raoul and Christiana.

Rachel had no idea. What did mothers and daughters do together? "You know- girl stuff." It was vague, but good enough. Harry had the best clue out of the three of them what that would entail. "I might come back another day, when Sheila's home," she promised as she waved from the door, ready to bolt. Suddenly, the idea of being in another person's house, watching someone who had a better dad that she ever would, and looking at the beautiful clutter that wasn't blankly sterile was too much for her.

They called farewells after her, and Gar promised to see her the next day in school. Her night was complete. She walked down the street, waiting until she was safely around the corner and out of sight before she stopped for a few seconds and stretched, just like her personal trainer from a few years before had shown her. If you wanted to run fast and well, you stretched fast and well. Deciding on a route, so that she could not think about it later, she broke into a run.

She reached her home at 8:58 P.M. She schooled her features into a scowl before opening the door, letting it slam shut behind her. She ignored the housekeeper, who was busily cleaning her guns, a usual hobby, walked past her mother's closed room, and passed through completely clean halls to her bedroom. Somehow, it was too quiet. She blasted music into her ears with earphones, drinking in the sheer volume- but it wasn't enough any longer, not when she'd had a taste of companionship. Maybe she could let herself look forward to friends- just a little bit, of course. She wouldn't want to get too caught up in this business.

It was a foolish thought. This had been a one-time trial, to prove that she was missing nothing in her cold front that kept all others at bay. So she missed playful banter and exchanging insults that weren't meant to hurt- what good was that? She could have just as much fun alone in her room, the Book of Azar for company. But- she couldn't concentrate. The words on the dry pages crinkled with age blurred into nonsense as she remembered the feeling of company. It had been ridiculous- a scummy house, a meatless meal, a scruffy mechanic, and an irritating friend of Victor's. She was done entertaining any such silly thoughts. Decision made, she refocused on the Book of Azar, finger tracing below words in archaic script as she remembered how to forget.


	5. A Titan by Any Other Name

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Just in case you're curious, and even if you are not, dates in this story are consistent and the days of the week will line up. For anyone either dedicated or crazy enough to keep track of various plotlines (I'm in that category, butthat's onlyto maintain accuracy and give me an idea when things are happening), the date for this chapter is Monday, September 19th of an undetermined year. Maybe I'll someday have a cult following to track such things- until then, there's the last date that I'll need to mention for a while. As always, thanks to dr.evil99 for consultation with characters- and for anyone who approves of a more serious Beast Boy, go look at Paragon of Animals__. But, for now- our favored five teenagers (I can't really say favorite for everyone, but you'd have to at least like them to be reading this) have an announcement to make. I'll leave them to it.

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**Chapter Five: A Titan by Any Other Name

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**

Garfield still wouldn't agree to pizza at lunch Monday. He evaded questionsabout motives and the exact reasons for a tofu-based diet so well that even Rachel would have to admire his tactics, if she was paying attention to anyone at her table. She had a thick, musty book, covered neatly in brown paper and propped against the mostly clean edge of the plastic table. The Book of Azar was closer to being completed, but she was having trouble concentrating. A week ago, she had not had a single qualm against cutting down relationships with people to the bare minimum. Now- she wasn't so sure. Doubt did not help in finding her center.

Hearing something about a gun, she looked away from her book. Richard under-exaggerated, Kori went overboard, Garfield wasn't there. "Victor, tell the story."

"We got pizza, Kori spotted the gun, I used nerve pressure points to get him down fast, Richard got Angelina to accept payment. Next time we're there, we get free pizza, and so do any friends we bring along."

"Interesting. I would guess you're a hero, then." She noted the story mentally, filed away with memories already as bland as a book you read once in elementary school but can't remember, except for perhaps the ending- always with a hazy detachment. The memory may or may not have been real, but it was there, waiting to be recalled. Rachel went back to her book, cutting off her musings.

"There can't be many heroes in this town," Richard said, dangerous traces of an idea in his smile. "We've all been past outskirts of Forest Gates. Gangs galore, right?"

"Right," Victor agreed guardedly.

Across the table, Rachel closed her book.

"There is that one guy, whatever he calls himself," Richard began, slowly drawing three other people into the vision he saw. "Bat-whatever. He keeps a low profile. I know he takes out the occasional gang member, or exposes one of many corrupt cops to the news, but there are too many people."

"You mean you have some hero team or other in mind?" Victor asked, trying to figure out what Richard meant.

Richard looked around the table. Victor, who knew pressure points and had a killer left foot he was careful to keep away from people. Kori, who spoke part of many languages and had the drive to help people. Garfield, who- well, he had determination, but wasn't really the strongest. And Rachel- oh. She was glaring at him.

"You think we can take down the organized crime behind the gangs in this town?" She knew what happened behind the small corners of the newspapers, buried under complaints of oil prices and layoffs and sports teams, news too dark for the front page.

"We can try."

Rachel did not share Richard's sudden enthusiasm. "Do you know what you're up against? Innumerable gangs. Enforcer squads. Entire units of anti-hero brutes. The second-in-command, wanted in twenty-eight countries where they havesome shred of proof thathe committed a crime. And then there's the man in charge, never seen on the streets." She didn't say his name, just because so few people knew it. She had given enough away already.

"Trigon. But- don't say no right away."

She paused, counting to three under her breath. "No. You will get people killed, since you seem the leader type and had the idea. You lead, you're responsible, you end up in a psych ward when you see someone die. Five teenagers aren't taking down the gang."

He shook his head. "Take down? No. Slow down? Yes. If we can help someone, just one person- wouldn't it be worth it?"

"Do you not need superheroes to create a team to aid in the combat of crime?" Kori asked, already sold on the idea. If she could help, she would.

Richard smiled. "We have surprise. We start training. My uncle would be happy to think I had something to do to get me out of the house. He already seems happy that I'm gone more often."

"My parents would see that I had friends," Kori offered. _And I could do something in which Connie will not interfere. _

"I'm game- as long as we're not using real names. If my parents are finding out, it's after I've built up a name." Victor was already cataloguing a few prototypes his mother had left in the basement, and his own small-scale experiments in electricity.

"I'm in." Gar would end up telling his foster parents- eventually, after he had a point and a definite place on the team.

Rachel saw four earnest faces. Time for a reality check, as playing the devil's advocate had not been enough to save them. "We are teenagers. In high school. I doubt any of you have ever had a gun pointed at you, had an arm broken on purpose, or watched someone you care about go down. If this team is going to happen, we will need to care about each other, work together, and keep identities secret and separate. You will not want to be caught unawares, or put your families in danger." Well, her dad could be in danger- it would be better for everyone but him.

"We know." Victor wouldn't say anything else to persuade her. She had to make the decision on her own.

"We will." Kori was serious. She would still people, even if she was in a rich neighborhood. Ken would want her to.

"We'll need you." Richard was always serious, but this was different. He was admitting that he would need her. She looked like she knew more than she was letting on- she could help them.

"Be on the team, Rae."

She went back to her book. "My name is not 'Rae,' beastly nuisance. I'll do it."

"Meeting at my house after school. My dad's not home, and I have a few things I'd like to show you that should make our work a little easier." Victor and Richard exchanged a look- Victor's house was the base, but Richard already wanted to be leader. Vic would let him- he wouldn't want that much more responsibility. Besides, Richard had a look to him- Victor could trust the guy, even with Richard's many social issues.

"This team's going to take a titanic effort," Rachel warned them.

Victor shrugged. "Then we'll be Titans."

**.Alias.  
**Rachel walked to Victor's house. She could easily get a car. She didn't want one. Most of her allowance was sitting in a banking account, collecting interest and making her banker very appreciative of a weekly addition. Kori was lagging behind her, talking animatedly at Richard, who occasionally gave a curt response. Gar had finally accepted a ride in Victor's 'baby.'

She walked through his front door, ignoring usual distaste. It was just like hers, except it had pictures of someone she had never cared to meet. She hadn't liked Derek, with all his bluster and easy charm. She had ignored him, and he had been the first to label her a Goth. She wasn't, but purple hair wasn't exactly normal. She had never been in his kitchen before, but his house was set up close enough to hers that she found it easily enough.

Victor had disappeared to the basement to get something or other from the unused wing of the lab his parents had called his. Kori and Richard were behind- Rachel walked quickly. That meant she was alone. With Garfield. Victor was going to pay next Saturday.

"We'll need aliases, right?" Gar asked, smiling and looking ready to bounce off his seat.

_Great. An optimist. Just what I need. _"Yes."

One syllable didn't deter him. "What are you going to use? I don't have much of a nickname- except BB, when I was little, after a tiny incident where somebody let me use a pellet gun and-"

"Do you understand the concept of me really not caring?"

"I think you do care, Rachel."

"You think? Does it hurt you?"

"No, not really. I just don't overdo it."

"It shows."

"You know, Rachel, most people would have given up by now. Someone tries talking to you, and you just snipe at them until they back away. You don't want to be alone, really. You want someone to see through your act. I think-"

Richard and Kori interrupted whatever he was about to say. As Rachel looked ready to get up and leave, that was probably a good thing. She was not about to have someone tell her what she wanted. Just because she had been at his house- that didn't mean she was his friend. Or did it? Life was easier when everyone hated her. If things got too personal, she was gone, and would be back in her room with the Book of Azar.

Victor brought a dusty box with labels scrawled and crossed out again on almost every square inch of cardboard from the basement. "This," he announced, dropping the box on the table, "is stuff no one will miss." He pulled five square devices from the box, made from thick clear plastic with wires and circuits and microchips embedded in the things. Each was a slightly different tint, from an old experiment to see if color affected clarity. "Just press the button at the side and speak into it- all other units will pick up, only when they're on. If not, the speaker will keep the message until the communicator is switched on with the switch under the talk button." He held out communicators- orange for Kori, red for Richard, green for Garfield, purple for Rachel, and that left a blue one for him.

"No charge?"

"No charge, Gar." Vic flipped over the communicator, pointing at a set of circuits. "These things have a hundred mile talk radius, low-distance frequencies radios don't use."

"Are you sure this is okay?" Kori asked, looking at the gift. "I mean, that we will use these, and be a team, and-" She could be going for a while.

"It's fine. You'll be a star, girl."

She smiled again, doubt forgotten. "That was what Ken called me. Koriand'r was his word for star fire, what they call the glitter around the star. He called me Starfire. I couldn't pronounce his real name- he just went by Ken, short for Kenya."

Rachel nodded. "It's a good name for you. Your parents don't know?"

She shook her head. "No. They didn't like me talking to kids from the village, so they never knew I had a friend."

"How old were you?" Victor asked.

"Eleven. I have a letter from him- he got the nurse to send it off. He said I'd do something great- he saw it in the stars." She didn't relate the last part of the note. She missed the jealous look on Richard's face, picturing the postscript. If she had seen it, maybe she would have shared.

Rachel nodded. "Congratulations, Starfire. You have an alias." Even in her monotone, Rachel was being . . . nice.

"I don't know what I'd use," Victor said.

"How about that nickname from when you were thirteen? Not to bring that mess up- the part you have with you." Rachel was purposely vague. If he wanted to share his past, he would. Until then, it was his business.

"The joke?"

"Our joke, from soccer."

"Sounds good. Hey, Starfire- I'm Cyborg, the second Titan to get a name."

"Do you have a name, Richard?" Kori asked, taking over for Rachel.

"Yeah. Richard."

"You know what I mean."

" . . . Robin."

Kori didn't say a word.

"My mom called me that. I would have been my name, but my dad didn't like it."

She smiled. "He wouldn't have had a say, Robin. This way, you can have both names."

Vic glanced at Garfield. "You need a name with a little bit of an intimidation factor. No offense, but you're not the biggest or scariest foe out there."

"I've gone by BB," he offered.

"BB pellets? No." Rachel didn't expect everyone to agree, but no one else thought the name was worthy of a Titan.

"Play up to youngness- B Boy, perhaps?" Kori suggested.

"Something a little scarier," Richard said.

"What did you call me, Rachel? At lunch?"

"Beastly nuisance," she supplied.

"Beastly Boy? Not good," Victor said, trying to let the name die easily.

"Beast Boy." Rachel didn't react until the last second, aborting a hug from Kori. "I don't do hugs. If we must have a celebratory moment, please keep it strictly verbal." Kori only looked hurt for a second before extending the privilege to Victor, Garfield, and Richard.

"Who are you, then, Rachel?" Gar asked.

"Raven."

"That's all of us. Victor- you said earlier we'd be Titans. All in favor?" Richard asked.

Five hands were raised. They had a name. "Now, all we need to do is train, figure out why we're not nuts, good excuses, and, when we're ready, get out the fact that Forston's fighting force won't tolerate gangs."

"Five can change the world," Kori said, caught in the moment and smiling. "We'll prove it." Not even Rachel brought down the mood- maybe a hint of optimism wouldn't hurt, just this once.

**.Telephone.  
**He tried about every conventional means of finding the phone number. All major syndicates for telephone books didn't have a listing in the right neighborhood. The school directory had nothing but her name. The major online search engines refused to deliver a hint. It was almost like she was trying to hide her phone number. She'd been a Titan for a week of their practices- he didn't know of any aversion to telephones.

He was safely in his room, where no one would hear- he took out his communicator. He had stayed after, learning how to contact an individual through the network. All he had to do was open the casing and press a few buttons. This would work. He tapped in a quick sequence, crossing his fingers, and pressed the large button. "Rachel?"

Two miles away, meditation was interrupted by the crackling of a device she had left in her pocket. She recognized that voice. Only one person would try to call her outside of an emergency. Considering they had only been training for a week, she didn't even need to try listening through bad-quality speakers. "Why are you calling me? It is Sunday afternoon. For all you know, my parents could be listening."

"But they aren't."

She could hate him for that. No one had ever been able to figure her out that easily. She was mysterious, she was distant, and she wasn't supposed to be logical. Why did he see through her act? "No, they aren't. They should be back, any moment."

"If they would be, why would you have the communicator on?"

"I forgot to turn it off. No one else is abusing the things," she snapped into hers. Her father was in the basement, taking care of business in a truly sound-proof room. Her mother was flitting about somewhere, as if constant motion meant Trigon would notice his wife and apologize, like he had so many years ago when he was a debonair gentleman to charm the town's sweetheart.

"You wouldn't forget. You're too meticulous."

"What is the point of this call? All you've done is hyper-analyze everything I've said. Do you just try to bother me? I was meditating."

"No, I wanted to know if you could come over. Shelia wants to meet you."

No one acted like this around her. Victor let her set the pace, and never pushed. Richard had crossed her path many times through high school, and they had a mutual respect for someone else no one seemed to like. Kori was too nice to try pushing Rachel from her comfort zone. "Well, that's nice, because I'm not up for show-and-tell today." Harsh, but maybe it would make him back off.

No such luck. "You never seem to leave your house, unless you're with us or running. And when you run, you usually pass my neighborhood. No one's seen you for a week."

"You've asked people about me. You've drawn attention to a solitary runner. Did you give a reason?" If he had spoken to one wrong person, her father would know that someone cared enough about her to ask around. As annoying as Garfield was, he didn't deserve to be questioned. He probably wouldn't live- not many did, and survivors never came out the same.

"I just asked a few old friends. Why?"

"Don't. It's dangerous." She was in full venom now, but it didn't matter. It would save his life, if he wouldn't try such things. "Could you be more of an idiot? You don't ask about a woman running alone. That only means the least reputable people will be on watch for me. Fighting off muggers in the middle of a run really throws off your stride."

"I'm sorry- I just wanted to see if you felt like getting away for a while. I mean, you've told me that your house is pretty boring. Your mom's never there for you, and your dad doesn't sound too nice."

"I didn't say that- none of it. Are you making up a fictional family for me?" Mean, but ineffective- he just wouldn't give up.

"Not in words, no. Sometimes, people say things, and they have no idea."

"I am more than capable of knowing what I say, Garfield Logan, and my parents are perfectly nice. Maybe they aren't as devoted as your precious foster parents, but there is nothing wrong with Raoul or Christiana." There was absolutely nothing that was markedly amiss with her false parents, creations of an imaginative liar.

"I didn't say they weren't nice- well, maybe I said that for your dad. You always spend time with Christiana, whenever she makes it for you, and you don't like talking about your father at all."

That was enough. There was such a thing as being too observant. He would be able to analyze a sham family. "No, Garfield. I tolerate your presence. Got it? Maybe I tried being polite at first. I'm not going out of my way. Now, if you'll excuse me, I was meditating, to clear my mind of little pests like you." She clicked off her communicator before he could respond. Who died and made him in charge of her life? She had been perfectly content. Except- she was lonely, and having someone care- bad idea. She was better off alone. Maybe the Titans were good, as a hobby, a way to try to make up to the world. She had still done the Unforgivable, and this wouldn't change that. But she could help someone else. A little good karma never hurt.

Across town, he heard the dull crackle stop abruptly. She'd hung up the line. Well, he had confronted her. That wasn't likely to make her smile. Maybe he was choosing the wrong angle. He knew that he was right- he could tell if someone was as lonely as he was. It wasn't hard. It was just looking past a glare. Next time, he'd do it right. No matter how stand-offish she tried to be, he knew there would be a next time.


	6. No Lights, No Camera

_Short note, short chapter- this is a bit of needed exposition, to make the next chapter go right. So, action fans, just give me another chapter of set-up before I can get the Titans rolling. As always, thanks to people who bothered to review, and to the incomparable dr.evil99 for listening to various fragmented rants about the development of this and many other chapters. So, read, review, and come back next time for a little more action._

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**Chapter Six:** **No Lights, No Camera**

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Rachel had been willing to not mention the aborted call. If he chose to bring it up, that was his business. They had been part of a team for a week that day, and he knew that she wouldn't offer any information unless completely necessary. But when he was absent, without warning, and had missed school for a trip to the hospital for the second time in two weeks of school just a few days ago-

"So, Rachel, have you seen Gar?" Vic had not been expecting a very smug Gar telling how Rachel had come to his house. He had expected Gar to be in school, moping a little bit behind a front of jokes. On Saturday, Gar had stayed after "training" (a hellish concoction of Robin's that would pass muster as a workout in the Navy SEALS, Marine Elite Corps, or Army Green Berets) to confess that he was going to call her Sunday to ask her over, and to figure out how a few extra buttons on their communicators worked.

"Do you mean to ask if a certain grass stain called me on Sunday?"

"He mentioned something like that, yeah."

"He did. We talked. He was annoying, per usual. I shut my communicator off."

Victor shrugged. He had expected that. "I'll call him tonight to figure out what's going on, then. Training is still on, right?"

"Right." Richard was already the non-commissioned drill sergeant. "If he isn't there, he'll just have to learn advanced punches later."

Kori's smile faded. She had enthusiasm. Her punches did not, and her kicks left much to be desired. It probably didn't help that she was practicing on her friends. Richard tried extra help with punching. Rachel said her endurance and speed were fine. Victor couldn't get her to kick anything but a soccer ball with any force- even Garfield was doing better.

Kori walked to torture (training, in Richard's world) alone. Richard had decided he would stop by his uncle's house, she didn't see Rachel, and she didn't want to ask for an invitation into Victor's car. She saw Rachel far ahead, running until she was out of sight. Kori decided to try the same feat, but at her pace, a steady jog.

She made it to Victor's house without breaking pace. She was only a little winded. It was easier to run when there was a purpose, or the end was unclear. In soccer, she was almost to the point where she could keep up with Rachel. Inside, she found Robin in the kitchen, Rachel and Victor obviously not impressed with him.

"You can do this, Kori. I want you to show me."

"Show you what?" She knew. She just would rather not.

"Punch me as hard as you can."

"No. I could hurt you."

"Kori-"

"No."

"I've fought a full-time member of the Mafia."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"No. I still do not wish to punch you."

Victor, listening to the two, rolled his eyes. "Just sock him, Kori."

"Why would I wish to use a tubular article of footwear?"

"That means punch used like that, Kori," Richard explained.

"Are you sure?" she asked. She never had held up to pressure for long.

"Absolutely. Pretend I'm your sister."

**.Good Idea, Wrong Result.  
**When Richard regained consciousness, he gagged and jerked away from whoever was standing over him instinctively. Rachel, satisfied, closed a vial. "Those were sleeping salts. Nasty smells often force people to wake. Kori punched you, very neatly, on the temple. You were out for ten minutes."

"How is she?"

Victor shook his head. "Shaken up. She's holing up in the bathroom, doesn't believe you asked for it."

"I did."

"Yeah. You did. Now go tell her that."

"Why me? You know I'm bad at emotional stuff, Vic."

"Gar isn't here, Victor's not involved, and I'm worse at it than you are." Rachel wouldn't stand for defiance.

"Okay, but I don't think this is a-"

Rachel and Victor were already pushing him towards the bathroom. "Just be honest," Victor advised. "And while you're at it, compliment her on her right hook."

They left him. He hesitantly knocked on the door, concentrating on a new training program the two traitors would benefit from. He nearly missed a quiet question.

"Richard?"

"Can I come in, Kori?" He felt more than a little awkward. Usually, a girl crying in a bathroom was his fault or ignored. He considered Kori a friend- that made matters odd, since he didn't quite know why she was crying.

He heard a few last sobs. "Yes."

His first thought (_she's still gorgeous_) was quickly ignored. "Hey, um, Kori. Look, I don't think you should be crying. That punch was inhuman." _There she goes again- say something else. Quickly. You have to fix it- _"I mean it was amazing, Kori."

"Really?"

"Really. That kind of fighting will let you help people. I doubt I could punch that hard. If you can kick, too- you'd make me worry about fights much less."

"You worry?"

"Well, I don't want anyone to get hurt. I know I'm used to fighting. Rachel will be fine quickly- I'm teaching her how to fight an unfair opponent. Victor's wiring some immobilizing charger or other- he's our tech wizard with a golden left foot. Now- I know you'll hold your own."

"You mean it?"

"Yeah. We'll all watch out for Gar. He's like the annoying little brother I never really wished for."

"You don't think that my strength is . . . unnatural, or a curse, or a sign that I will do bad things?"

"Why would it be a curse?"

"It could be used for evil."

He dimly remembered one of the few speeches his father had given him. "A gun can be evil, used the wrong way, but cops carry them. If you use your strength for a good purpose- it's a gift. I know you'll help people, Kori."

Anything else he might have said was lost in a sudden hug. He couldn't breathe, and felt ribs stressed to near their limit. "Kori," he choked out, using his last bit of air.

"Sorry, friend Richard." She was nervous all over again, remembering that she was strong. She was stronger than a teenager had a right to be, let alone a thin female who never trained with weights.

He took a few deep breaths. "No harm done. Just remember how strong you are." He left the bathroom, an odd place for such a talk. She followed, giving him a much less constricting hug in the hallway. Victor and Rachel saw- neither said a word. Instead, the four walked outside to practice together, and Richard, walking closer than completely necessary to Kori, decided to save extra training for another day.

**.Telephone.  
**Victor was, by default, the person to ask why Gar hadn't been there. Richard was too abrupt, Kori to . . . something or other, and Rachel wasn't the best choice for a social call. Besides that reason, Rachel had also point-blank refused. Victor was about to hang up, after letting the phone ring eleven times, when someone finally picked up.

"Hello, Young's place," a tired female voice announced cheerfully. "If this is the bank again, the check was dropped off this afternoon with Becky Northrup at the front desk."

"This is Victor," he said uncertainly. Young?

"Oh! Garfield has said so much about you. I've only seen Rachel, and that was only for a second, but you all- you're all so nice. Not many sixteen-year-old seniors find friends, and so quickly-"

He interrupted as politely as he could, getting the feeling she could keep talking for a while. "Age doesn't matter." _Sixteen? That's young. _"We just missed him at school today, and wondered if he'd be in tomorrow."

"He'll be there; just don't be surprised if he's a wee bit greener than usual. And don't let him overdo it. He'll never admit if he's tired, but he shouldn't get himself too worn out."

"Overdo what?" He understood that Gar sometimes looked a little green, but Gar never complained about fatigue. Whenever he looked too tired, he or Rachel would stop for a break. Richard never seemed to notice, and Kori was happily oblivious of anything negative.

"Oh, everything." She stopped, not talking into the phone. "Garfield, your friend is on the line. Did you want to talk to him?"

"What did you tell him?" Victor could barely hear Gar- he was lowering his voice.

"Oh, just that you'd be in tomorrow, and shouldn't work yourself too hard."

"Mom, I'm fine." The phrase felt completely natural to him. Finally remembering something, he muted the phone for a second. After a few silent moments, he spoke into the phone. "Hey, Vic."

"How'd you know it was me?"

"She said him, which narrows it down. Besides, Rachel seems mad at me for the moment, anyway, Kori would probably be discussing something completely off-topic by now, and Richard is . . . well, you know."

"Yeah. I know. Why'd you miss school? We missed you."

"That's my business." It came out more waspish than he had intended, but the effect was more than acceptable. He'd have to remember that trick, for when humor didn't work.

"Okay, okay- I get it. If you ever feel like letting me know, I'll be listening. We missed you. We had to send Richard to apologize for himself, which didn't go too badly. Rachel had to start picking on Richard, for lack of a better target. That didn't go as well." He didn't mention that Rachel had been more irritable than usual, or that she had mentioned his failed call to him.

"She could do that while I was there," Gar grumbled.

"Nah, Richard was grumbling pretty bad, and just glowered whenever Kori giggled. He didn't even try joking it off- he took it way too personally. We need you there- four doesn't feel right, even if pairing is easier. Oh- and you missed it. Kori finally got in a good punch."

"You mean she finally landed one?"

"Yeah. Richard told her to imagine he was her sister."

Garfield winced. Kori had been telling him a little about her older sister, finding a ready ear. "That would work."

"Yeah. He was out for ten minutes, until Rachel found some vile-smelling concoction or other in the medicine cupboard."

"So, Kori's pretty strong?"

A little too late, Victor remembered what the news would mean. Kori had been the only other Titan struggling in simulated combat, and had been the weakest. "Yeah, but she's still horrible at GameStation." It wasn't much, maybe, but it was an attempt.

"Practice after school tomorrow?"

"My place, as usual. Richard wants to start patrol pretty soon- we're talking disguises tomorrow."

"Uniforms?"

"Basically. Whatever we scrounge together- costume shop down the street has some stuff. The biggest disguise issue is Rachel- purple hair is pretty memorable. She says she has an idea that'll work."

"That's all at your place?"

"Definitely- it might be a giveaway to do it at lunch."

"Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow."

Gar hung up the phone. Shelia had been giving him odd looks- she couldn't help but overhear, as she was making dinner two feet from where he was standing and the rotary phone was connected to the wall.

"So, I take it this is a secret, Garfield?"

"Yeah, kind of."

"There's nothing wrong with secrets. Just promise me that what you're doing isn't illegal, you'll get help if you need it, and if you're coming in past two A.M. or sleeping out somewhere else, give me a call."

"I promise, mom." He didn't even think about that one syllable any more. It had only been three months. It already felt right.

"Good. Now, could you get the salad ready?" She pulled a sizzling all-vegan lasagna from the oven just as Harry returned from work, smudged liberally with grease. They took turns working, to make sure someone was home to take care of matters. He set the table as she explained his promise to Harry. Suddenly, being a Titan didn't seem nearly as uncomfortable. Shelia approved of whatever he was doing. It was nice, not having to lie. He wasn't a very accomplished liar, and didn't want to be.

**.The Rest of the Team.  
**Victor pressed a few buttons, modifying a few wires. Crossing his fingers, he hit the talk button. "Titans, do you read?"

"Roger," Richard said, almost instantly. He had been waiting for the results of Victor's call.

"Who is Roger?" That would have to be Kori. Victor tuned out Richard attempting to explain radio slang to Kori, and waited for Rachel's monotone to cut across the air waves.

"What is it?"

"Everyone but Gar's tuned in," Victor explained. "He was at the hospital again. He won't say what it is. All his foster mom said before he cut her off is that he'll be a little greener than usual, and probably more tired than he lets on."

"We're taking care of uniforms tomorrow. He can rest up." Rachel's sensible suggestion was delivered in a monotone bordering on some inflection unidentifiable in the bad connection. Victor decided to make a better set, as soon as a few other experiments were through. They could use them.

"So, there's something wrong with him?" Richard asked.

"You needn't sound so judgmental, Richard," Kori said, sounding more than a little defensive.

"He isn't the strongest on the team. If he's sick, too-"

Victor and Kori had been ready to cut him off. They hadn't expected Rachel to. "Richard. You are not going to suggest he's off the team. Understand that? Maybe Garfield isn't the strongest, or the fastest, or the best fighter, but that does not matter. He is still a part of this team. He is a Titan. He stays. If he doesn't, I leave."

"So do I," Victor added after a moment. Rachel was done.

"And I." Kori was just as set.

"Fine. He's on." Richard didn't know if he had been ready to make that drastic of a step, but it was out. The team would stick together. It meant that plan was out, but maybe they'd be less likely to get rid of him.

"He better be," Rachel said, monotone slipping dangerously low. "He's the little guy on the team- comic relief and our reminder of who we're here to save. I'm gone for the night. I'll see you tomorrow, because I've heard all I need to." The crackling lessened by one communicator.

"Night, everyone." Victor was gone just as quickly.

"Richard, we're a team. We started out together, and we'll end together. No one's going to leave you out, either. This is the family you've actually wanted."

"You're lecturing me, now?" he asked defensively. Kori didn't seem the type.

"No, Richard. I'm talking to you as one of the closest friends I've ever had. Good night." She was gone by the time he thought of a response, and he switched off his communicator, letting her words stay with his conscious thoughts for a while.

Across town, digesting lasagna, was a fifth Titan. The communicators hadn't quite worked. He had heard every word. So, Victor had told the others- that wasn't unexpected. But- Rachel had defended him. That had to mean something, right? Smiling, he flicked the switch, terminating the last connection. He still had a chance- if Rachel could defend his place on the team, she could smile. Logically, the two events were connected, even if only he could tell how.

**.Tuesday.  
**Lunch had been strained. Richard was tense, Kori was doodling absentmindedly in her notes and not even trying to loosen him up, Victor had spent an hour before school listening to his mother gush about wedding plans after his father couldn't take it any longer, and Garfield did look greener than usual, and didn't eat his usual tofu with any enthusiasm. Rachel serenely ignored them, sipping tea and acting completely normal.

Everyone, for once, accepted a ride in Vic's car, which he dubbed the T-Car. Garfield's joke about christening the vessel by smashing a bottle on the hood was not taken well. Rachel claimed the front passenger set, sliding in while the others were trying to decide if they should laugh at or run from the look on Victor's face. Kori had the middle of the back set- usually, it went to the smallest person, but she decided to keep Richard away from Garfield. Richard still wasn't happy about 'his' team ganging up on him.

Rachel directed Vic to a small thrift store. She ushered everyone in, taking no objections. They all had thought about uniforms, and she knew it. She plucked a neat package from the lay-away shelf, unwrapping it to show what she had chosen. The item on top was an antique, a golden belt with red gem inlays. The rest was a dark cloak slightly frayed at the edges with a hood, a black long-sleeved shirt, and leggings, with a pair of boots to finish everything off. Tennis shoes didn't seem like the best idea. "I'm done."

"You scoped this place out," Victor accused, wishing he had thought of that.

"Yes." She had thought that would be obvious. "Kori, you showed me your design fifth period- Marie, the owner of this place, mentioned a few outfits with that kind of look. They would be perfect, for our Halloween party." She stressed the last two words, a little white lie to keep identities safe.

Richard was about to protest everyone getting their outfits in the same store- then he saw the cashier's guide dog beneath the counter. Marie was blind. Satisfied with Rachel's choice, he found a mask he liked the looks of. It was similar to Zorro's, from old re-runs, but white. He tried it on, glancing in a mirror. It distorted his entire face.

Kori and Rachel were done first, as they both had decided on something exact. Kori's design was based off an outfit she remembered from a small tribe she had visited just once, but with more modern materials than animal skins. Kori decided to help Victor in "seeking the concealment of his true identity for the purpose of fighting crime." He just nodded, finding the question in the jumble of words, and she put together a passable outfit. He hadn't wanted anything too exciting.

Rachel only handed Garfield two things- a pair of green gloves and a full-face green mask. "Play up the green. That way, people will write off the skin tone." Rachel, in a rare mood of benevolence, did not comment on Victor's half-machine look that Kori seemed to be going for, Richard's bright colors, or Garfield's excessive greenness. He took her advice above and beyond what she had intended, but it would be fine. No one would recognize them.

Rachel paid- for everyone. She refused to be paid back, or say how much she spent- the exchange of money was done very quickly. Instead, she left for Victor's car, bag in hand. It wouldn't do to walk around in the streets dressed as Raven. Victor drove the Titans to his house, where they walked in through the front door. Today, of all days, they needed to make sure no one was home.

The downstairs bathroom was used as the changing room. Rachel was first, as no one else seemed to be volunteering. She emerged just two minutes later, her hood drawn up and her cloak concealing most of her body. The belt, which had been the reason for a few odd looks, was just the right touch, to give a bit of detail. No one disapproved, which wasn't just the decided by fact that Raven was glaring from beneath her cloak.

Richard went next, making sure his leadership was clear. He took slightly longer, but his uniform was more complex. Rachel thought that Robin looked like a slightly demented Christmas tree, but he looked insecure enough. She wasn't going shopping again, as Kori would only too happily suggest the Mall of Shopping. Robin was a little more approachable than Richard, and even tried a smile.

Kori's outfit was less concealing. The males of the team hadn't seen her pick it out, and didn't know the history behind such a look. All they saw was . . . Starfire. Compared to the demure and very shy Kori, Starfire was very much different. She took the speechlessness from the boys as a compliment. She had worn worse outfits, cover-wise, and she could move best in something like her two-pieced ensemble. The purple made her skin look a little orange, but that didn't matter.

Beast Boy was voted very green. As that had been intentional, it didn't quite matter. Victor promised to line the gloves with a few shock absorbers. His shock absorbers didn't just keep fingers from breaking. They helped the output of

Victor wasn't at all sure about Kori's ensemble. But, when he tried it on- it worked. The material made his left leg look completely robotic, and his right arm had the same bulky gray material. The mask was interesting- it covered half his face and went down into the shirt, making one of his eyes look empty beneath the mask, even though he could still see. For a Titan called Cyborg, it was just right.

The Titans headed for his backyard. No one mentioned changing out of their uniforms. Victor's yard had a high fence. They had to get used to the outfits. For the first time that day at practice, the Titans looked like a little more than a group of teenagers trying to live out some bizarre video game. They looked like a team.


	7. Action

_And now for the little bit of nonsense that very few people will read. Even fewer people review, I'd guess, but I'll get over the lack of feedback. If I don't know what most people want to see, I'll go along with those who review. This chapter is one I find more interesting, but that's just me. Perpetual thanks to dr.evil99 for helping get BB just right for a scene in this chapter- no hints just yet, for all people who still are kind enough to be reading the author's drivel. Read and review- you'll burn calories. (Really. You will- just not very many.)_

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_**Chapter Seven: Action**

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**.Right Night.  
**It was a Friday night. The Titans had been about to stop a light practice in favor of a movie. They didn't know who stopped reaching for street clothes first, but instead they went out to the T-Car. Victor had installed a few special switches- the car went from plain rich-kid's toy car to a vehicle worthy of a quintet of heroes with a quick code. Today was Robin's day for the passenger seat, and Starfire let Beast Boy take the middle seat. She didn't even pretend to notice a reason for it, but Raven still knew. Starfire was very fond of trying to gently force her friends to get along.

"I think we're ready," Robin announced.

"I agree." Raven put her hood up.

"I'm in." Cyborg started the car- they'd be fine.

"Let's do it." Beast Boy was ready.

"Hands in," Starfire urged. Five hands met between the two front seats. "One- two- three- TITANS!" All yelled the last word- Kori had been insisting on the routine for a week, a conclusion of practice and an excuse to be louder than needed. No one else but Garfield had yet admitted to liking the custom.

"Let's go find ourselves some trouble," Robin said with a grin.

**.First Fight.  
**They found it. In a town like Forston, finding a problem that needed a solution wasn't at all difficult. Three men in ski masks were breaking into a charity's office, cutting into the windowless building through a patch of wall without reinforcements. Building materials that would stand up to a plain hardware-store metal saw weren't used in the grittier portions of the town Robin and the rest quietly exited the car, and took a minute to pick their targets through a few nods. Beast Boy and Cyborg were back-up fighters- for three grade-B thieves, it wouldn't be very difficult.

Robin, Raven, and Starfire ran forward. "Titans, go!" Robin yelled when he was a few feet from his target, the man barking commands on the bedraggled front steps of the office. The man turned, caught by surprise, but still managed to start fighting Robin off. He was better than Robin had expected, but Robin was still confident that the guy fighting for the better reasons would win.

Raven broke left, confronting a man armed with a lead pipe. She disarmed him quickly with a few rapid-fire blows to his right collarbone, then kicked the pipe back towards Beast Boy. He tossed it down a sewer, where it wouldn't be used for any other break-ins. Raven kept fighting, using hand-to-hand delaying tactics and waited for an opening for her favorite combination of lights-out non-lethal blows.

Starfire took the right. Her target stopped to take a second look at the girl in the costume. He was unconscious before he considered the fact that she might be a threat. She saw Raven's man go down. They had found a good trio of thieves- nothing had gone wrong. Robin was doing well, and about to land a final blow when-

Beast Boy tackled Robin, who knocked the would-be robber's head against a support beam when he toppled forward. After rolling away and narrowly avoiding a fall off the thin porch of wooden slats, Robin was about to yell a sharp rebuke when a knife-wielding man that had been jumping from above gained his footing back and began slashing. Beast Boy shoved him again, getting Robin out of the path of the swinging knife.

Raven, Robin, and Starfire took the man with the knife out quickly, with a few supporting punches from Beast Boy as Cyborg covered the man's only escape. He wasn't stupid enough to run at the last of the heroes. Cyborg left the robbers with their hands neatly cabled around the support beam in an interlocking chain of bright plastic loops, with no knives anywhere near them.

The Titans had won their first fight. Robin couldn't help smiling, even as he asked through formalities as he dialed up the local emergency dispatcher. Cyborg had assured them that the communicators could patch onto any viable phone line, if radio contact was impossible. "Any casualties to our side?"

Raven saw it first. "Yes. We're heading back to your place, because you have a nice first-aid kit, and Beast Boy's riding shotgun." She grabbed a clean wrap of cloth from the T-Car's glove compartment. No one else had seen the need for a roll of gauze, but Raven was a cynic. Cynics prepared for the worst, and weren't all too surprised when a teammate had a bleeding gash down an arm. "I'll take care of him."

**.First Aid.  
**Climbing out of the car once the Titans reached Victor's house, Garfield had never been so nervous in his life. Rachel, with her monotone and very regular threats of bodily harm, was going to take care of his arm. No one else seemed nervous. Richard had already made a few awkward apologies. Garfield wasn't mad. He had tackled his teammate with no warning- but only because if Victor had done the same thing, Richard would have a few injuries to add to the team's casualty list.

Rachel only rolled her eyes when Gar began a litany of apologies, deciding a pre-emptive confession just might lessen bodily harm. She had appropriated Victor's bathroom. He not only had disinfectant and gauze, he also had sterilized packets of suturing needles. She had asked him why his medicine cabinet had restricted surgical-grade items the time she had sorted through needles while looking for smelling salts. He only said something about his mother. That was enough- she had stopped prying. Nothing was expired, his dad never used the stuff, and she could use it without having to go through medical catalogs and questionnaires.

Finally, she interrupted him when he was apologizing about something or other- he was talking so quickly that she couldn't make out one word in ten. "Look. I may not be the nicest person on earth, but I know how to stitch people up." He looked a little too reassured. He looked likely to start- there he went, happily telling her a few of his more recent jokes. "But, as I stitch you up, if I keep hearing about video games, jokes, or some movie or television show you think I should see, I'll stitch your mouth shut, too."

He was quiet for the entire process of unwrapping the crude bandage from his arm. The cut was deeper than she had guessed, in a quick estimation on a dim street. She took out a brown washcloth and cleaned off what she could of his arm. The cut went through his shirt. _Great. Just to make this a little _more _awkward- _"We have two choices. I can either cut the arm off this shirt, to make sure I don't sew it to you and get fibers stuck in the cut, or you can take it off." Cuts on the upper arm were pretty bad about shirts, but his uniform would be fine with a bit of clever stitching.

"Um, I'd rather not need to buy another shirt." It could be a little hard to replace, with an odd style and color pattern.

She didn't say a word. She just helped ease the sleeve over the offending gash on his right arm, letting him do the rest. The cut was longer than it had looked, seven inches at least and staying pretty steadily around an inch deep, some parts going a little deeper. She washed off the rest of the blood before taking out a dangerous-looking spray bottle labeled ANTISEPTIC. "This will make sure there is no chance of infection."

"That's going to sting, isn't it?"

"A little." She shook the bottle. "Might want to brace yourself- the others are hovering around outside, just waiting for you to scream as I finally dismember you." Giving him another second, she sprayed the cut. It wasn't too deep, and the few muscles cut usually healed without too much help, in her experience.

"Hey- that didn't hurt." He was more than a little surprised.

"No, it didn't. Some people get pretty sensitive to the stuff, so it's best to give a warning. This has a nice spray- larger droplets can hurt." She put it away, looking through the extensive cabinet. For a cut that long, she'd need two forty-centimeter packets, and a pair of scissors. Green sutures were appropriate, and were thinner- they would feel less foreign and heal better. He didn't have bulging biceps to pop the thinner sutures. "I'm not completely qualified with anesthetic, but there is some local in here. So, it won't be exactly right- you'll either feel the stitches a little, not feel your arm for about an hour after I'm done, or decide to do this _sans _any of this- it's basically like Novocaine for your arm."

"I'll take it. I trust you."

She looked at the selection a little longer than was completely needed, counting under her breath to calm any trace of surprise or other useless emotions. No one had said that they trusted her before- not that it made any difference. It was either her, or finding some doctor in the hospital where too many questions were asked and fees were much higher than the cost of supplies. Besides, the worst she could do was make his arm numb for more than necessary. "This is going to feel weird," she warned. She took a small package, about the size of a band-aid, from a small basket. It looked like a Q-tip, albeit it one with flattened ends that came in a sterile package.

The anesthetic was translucent white, and cool to the touch. She moved carefully, spreading an even coating over the interior of the cut without touching the end to the actual wound, and then for a half-inch around all outsides. She was concentrating only on her task, and for a few careful minutes, she forgot to scowl.

She carefully prodded the edge of his wound. "Can you feel that?" The monotone was fully present, but the scowl was still less pronounced. She was used to bandaging and sewing, all small things done to heal people.

"No. Are you going to be a doctor? Because you'd be really good at it. I've never seen a teenager that could do something like that- have you practiced at a veterinarian's office? Because I know one girl who did- she'd practice stitching on dead animals in the back room, and that vet let her, but you're good at humans. Did you go to the county medical examiners? With all the gang members that end up dead, you could probably get a few for stitching." Remembering he had asked a question or three, he paused.

"No, no, and no. Now, could you please try being quiet? I haven't done this kind of stitching for a year and a half." The statement was odd- she had been doing this kind of work when she was fifteen, and probably for some time before that.

She took out the needles, ripping open the paper casing. He gulped. Two curved needles were connected to a long green thread. They were thicker than conventional sewing needles, and did not look friendly. "Relax. They're curved so it hurts less, and this helps whoever is sewing make the motion even." She took one needle in each hand, then made the first part of her stitch.

Within a few deft movements, she had an odd-looking knot in the center of the cut. She moved the stitches closer to his hand, until a line of the knots stretched evenly across half the cut. She cut the string with her scissors, dropping the needles into the small trash bin labeled SHARPS next to the soap dispenser. "Nearly done," she said, opening the second pack of needles.

He watched her. He didn't feel a thing. It was a little disconcerting to watch a needle go through his arm, but she did know what she was doing. The stitch wasn't too deep, or too close to the skin. She was done within another two minutes. He knew that she had done it before. Rachel knew about equalizing the pressure of the wound, but didn't feel like preaching her knowledge.

She cut the last stitch. "Don't get this wet for at least twenty-four hours. After that, you can wash it off with mild soap and water twice a day. I'll be seeing you just about every day, so I'll know when they need to come off. They'll be off in somewhere around two weeks. If your arm is really sore on Monday, don't be stoic. Tell me. Your foster mom's a nurse- let her know about your stitches, and she can watch for a fever, discharge, swelling, or redness." She wrapped the stitches in gauze, just for the moment. She would spare Victor's car, and wouldn't confuse his foster mother. Shelia would know how to care for stitches.

"Thanks, Rachel. Who knew we had a doctor in the house?"

She paused- she had been on her way out the door. The harshly bright light she had used to make sure she missed nothing in the cut left her face paler than ever, skin nearly translucent. She toned down the light, and the sudden change in lighting either tricked his eyes- or her lips had twitched into something suspiciously similar to a smile. "No problem." That was a little too close to friendly- back to business. "Besides, would you rather go to a hospital?" She left before he could respond, bringing the topic back to business. He could hear her politely shoving herself past the other Titans and enter the other changing room, an unused closet.

She was changed by the time he got out of the bathroom. That wasn't much of a surprise, when he had to survive a hug by Kori while keeping his arm safe and out of her reach without crashing the limb into the wall. Victor was glad that hospitals were left out of the equation- with as many hospital visits as Gar made, that probably wasn't the best place for him to be with a wound he couldn't explain.

Richard smirked. "What?" Gar asked. He didn't see any problem with the gauze on his arm. They'd see his stitches tomorrow. Saturdays were for soccer- he could run without hurting his arm. He'd just take a few painkillers.

"Looks like somebody couldn't wait to get his shirt off. Or did she ask you to?"

Rachel's response was to walk out of the room, down the hallway, and slam the door on her way out of the house. Kori frowned. Victor was about to say something, but Gar was the guy being insulted, and had a very angry look on his face that didn't look like his usual easy-going nature.

"Look, _Robin. _I got this cut making sure you didn't get stabbed in the back. A seven inch cut that goes up to one and a half inches deep means either taking off the sleeve or ditching the shirt for a few minutes. And, in case you didn't notice, until you said that, Rachel was actually having a pretty good day. But, of course, you had to be your immature little self and try to get a reaction. Well, congratulations, you got one. Now she's gone, will be more closed-off than usual tomorrow, and probably won't be civil to me for a week, just to prove your point is invalid."

"I could take you down," Richard said, eyes narrowing. He was not used to being snapped back at. Usually, the response to such a comment was awkward sputtering on his current victim's part.

"You might be able to, but you won't." Victor said. "Because I'd be on you first. The grass stain did well tonight, and taking on the small guy is never very noble. Taking on the injured small guy that saved your hide? Not done."

"You will stop being such a chlorrbag," Kori said, glaring in her most regal way.

Richard didn't even bother trying to figure out what a "chlorrbag" was. He backed down. "Okay, okay. Anyone up for pizza?"

"We lost part of the team. Vic, can I get a ride home? I think I might want a little back-up when I talk to Shelia." Gar wasn't taking it. Before the Titans- he would be rapidly retreating. Now- he knew he was a part of the team. He had pretty good night vision, if nothing else.

"Can I also come with you?" Kori asked. "I wish to meet your mother of foster."

"I'm going to pizza," Richard said.

"That's nice," Victor said, as if talking to a small child. "I guess you don't want to come. Well, I could drop you off at your uncle's place, Angelina's, or Gar's." Richard's glare didn't change. Victor wouldn't try to change the fearless leader's mind. "Okay, option number four- you go on your own. Richard, look. You're a good leader for battle tactics, but you really could work on your people skills. You've alienated a girl who was opening up a little bit, threatened a teammate, and made me mad." Victor didn't see any sign of a forthcoming response, so he and Gar left.

Kori lingered for a minute. "Richard?"

"Want to go for pizza?" he asked, seeing an opportunity to prove his point.

"I'll go with you for pizza when the entire team is present, or when you wish for me to be there with you. Right now, you don't want my company. You just want to show off some part of your ego. I shall see you tomorrow, at soccer. Maybe, if you apologize to friends Rachel and Garfield, we can go for pizza after that. This is a team, Richard, and you're part of it."

Kori walked away. She didn't look back. Richard stood there for a few minutes before he remembered to change into street clothes, pick up his back pack, and walk home. He would think about it, but he wasn't making any promises.

**.Meet the Foster Parents.  
**Shelia Young took the appearance of three teenagers on her doorstep at eleven o'clock P.M. very well. She wasn't even fazed by Gar's gauzed arm, which showed beneath the t-shirt he had been wearing when he left her house with a light backpack earlier. "Oh, hello! Come in, come in!" It was easy to guess names- she had seen Rachel, and Richard was consistently described with a scowl. "Kori and Victor, right?"

Only after a few introductions did she tap Gar's shoulder. "Garfield, you were not injured when you left this afternoon. I do hope that you've had medical attention?"

"The gauze was just to make sure that the last bits of anesthetic didn't get all over Victor's car," he explained. Shelia was already un-wrapping it. She was a licensed nurse practitioner, and had seen her share of stitches.

"Did you go to one of those clinics? These are full-grade materials, and somebody's done this before. New people doing something of this delicacy always bunch the first few, or start at an end and mess up the pressure." She tapped the cut. He flinched. "Good, not too much anesthetic. Your pulse is going strong, and you don't feel like a corpse- you'll have an aspirin before bed."

"Rachel did it. Victor had the things at his house. His mom's into medical research." Gar had put the clues together- his mom had a lab, and medical supplies. It wasn't that hard. "Victor, it was just deduction. I wasn't snooping." The small defense was enough for his friend, and the matter was forgotten.

"So, this has to do with the secret that isn't illegal. You were in before two in the morning and did get help, so whatever you did or someone else did to get you this cut, I trust you." Shelia left the gauze off- the stitches would be fine. "Now, which of you want ice cream? We have a fresh half-gallon from the store."

"I'm going to try calling Rachel," Victor said, taking out his communicator. If his mom was that trustworthy, she could catch a glimpse of it. "Rachel? Are you there?"

Across town, in a bedroom with all the lights out, Rachel Roth had her head buried in the pillows. It didn't work. It never worked. She could still hear. But she wasn't trying to avoid the voice coming through his communicator. She could still hear other sounds.

"Rachel. This is Victor. Your com is on- I hear the static."

She couldn't pick up. What if he heard the background noises? She was safe in her room. She couldn't leave. She had to wait for the sobs and the pleading to stop. She had to wait for her father to become bored. Once he left for the night, to find some ritzy dive, then she could take care of her mother. She had heard a few tell-tale sounds. She would be doing stitches again, but this time it wouldn't be relaxing. The antiseptic that her father kept in his cabinets stung wounds, and the only anesthetic sprayed on in biting gobs of slightly-rancid gel. The sutures were the same quality as Victor's mother's were, a small favor. She'd probably need the gauze, too-

"Rachel," Kori's voice said through her link, only adding to the background white noise. "We were wondering if you could join us. Richard is not here, and no one else agrees with what he said. That was rude and hurtful. Will you not speak to any of us?"

She knew who was next, and wasn't surprised when a fourth source of background filler was added to the radio waves. "Rachel, Shelia would love to meet you. We have ice cream- we saved some for you." He spoke again, after a few seconds of dead air. "Rachel, if you don't want to come, that's fine."

There was enough static. They would not be able to hear the background noise that filled the house on nights like this, after all the neighbors' lights were out. "Hey, guys- I can't do anything tonight. Something came up. Christiana isn't feeling well- it's the pregnancy. She's only five weeks in, and it's getting to her." A lie. But- it was better that they think this than the alternative. They would hate her, if they knew the truth. They'd have to. Heroes always did the right thing, and she never got this right.

"We'll see you tomorrow, though?" Victor asked.

"Yeah. You'll see me tomorrow. Christiana needs me- I have to go." She clicked off her communicator. She would be at soccer, after a night of trying to make things right. She could blame any fatigue on the fight. It already seemed like weeks ago, feeling the nervous thrill of her first real fight. Her words were true- the pleading stopped, a few doors slammed, and a car roared off into the night. She stood, padding downstairs in worn slippers that were already traced with blood. Her mother needed help.

On the grittier side of town, three Titans shrugged. They had only heard Rachel- no background noise would go through. "Who wants seconds?" Gar asked, wielding an ice cream scoop like it was Excalibur.

"Me. I'm surprised you have anything normal in this house, with your tofu obsession."

"I will partake in the second dishing of the iced cream."

"Coming right up- and who said that this ice cream wasn't vegan?" Gar grinned. Victor had already enjoyed the first dish, even if he now did have a rather amusing expression on his face. "Come on, it's good for you. Besides, the chocolate is made with real soy milk and sugar." He was ready for Victor's retort, and Kori just laughed at the two of them. It was nice, having a normal night- maybe, all five Titans could be there for a reprise.


	8. Introductions

_To address a common question in reviews: Rachel's past will be addressed, but only when she feels that she can discuss such a thing without being ostracized, must discuss her birth, or her father or any lieutenant directly announces her parentage/lineage. This could take a while, so please stop asking when it will happen. I know, and you'll find out. Deal? I thought so. The focus on characters will shift around, and everyone will be included as soon as s/he has something to contribute to the larger storyline. Reviewers, please don't fret- all pasts will be brought up when the character is ready. Credit, as always, to the future ruler of the world, dr.evil99. _

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_**Chapter Eight: Introductions**_

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Richard Grayson was not pleased. He had pointedly been using a strong portion of the fence to play soccer against himself for the last twenty minutes. No one had bitten. Victor hadn't said a word when Richard had walked in. Instead, he had remained seated on the lip of his patio. Kori kept looking at Richard and tracking the soccer ball's path between his foot and the fence, but she wasn't smiling. Garfield showed up just a few minutes to two, the standard time for Saturdays, green stitches on the outside of his uncovered right arm.

No one said a word until 2:07, Pacific Standard Time. The only noise until Victor spoke was the repeated dull thud of a soccer ball ricocheting off a fence. "She's either late, which has never happened before, or not coming."

Richard was tired of this- of everything. "And I suppose this is my fault?"

"Yeah, Bird Boy, it is." Victor currently had the title of knowing the most about Rachel, but that would be the shortest biography ever written-Rachel said more about Christiana than she ever did about herself, and getting her to talk about anything remotely personal was tricky.

"You were aware of exactly which buttons to depress to make her angry. Could you not have let her be? She has done little to you." Kori hated being angry with a friend.

"She rips on people all the livelong day. So what if someone got her back?" Richard didn't see their point.

"Because you went straight for the throat. Rachel was uncomfortable enough with the whole idea. When she'd finally relaxed- she was almost a different person. She came close to smiling."

"Why do you care so much if she smiles, Garfield?" Richard made the name an insult. "Got a crush?"

"No. I just thought she could use a friend who could get her to smile and doesn't at all respect her space and Princess of Darkness aura. Vic knows her too well for that, Kori's in charge of girl talk and respects boundaries, I'm enough of a pest to try coaxing her into opening up, and you're the guy to go to for easy shots."

"Wow. Defensive, are we?"

"Only when someone as offensive as you is near."

"I suppose you think you're clever."

"As a matter of fact, I-"

"BOYS!" Kori had their attention. Her thundercloud expression kept it."Stop this fighting , now, or I shall be forced to put an end to it for the both of you." Kori's words were not very threatening. She was. "You. Garfield. You can't blame Richard completely. She will come back. And you, Richard. You need to get over the delusion that we should be in awe of you. Your parents are gone. So are Gar's. No one here has a perfect family, and your past does not give you the right to snap at people arbitrarily. I'm sure everyone here has a skeleton or two or six or however many in their closet. And we _will _get along. I am not losing friends for silly squabbles. Understood?"

There was nothing to do but nod. She was not shy when she was angry. They all remembered her right hook. If she was mad enough, she wouldn't hold back.

"So, um, who wants to play soccer?" Kori asked after a minute, anger dissolved in the outburst. They didn't have to say a word, and conversation in the form of friendly taunts didn't start until after a few minutes of the game. They just played, and Kori smiled when Richard passed her the ball. She scored the goal. It wasn't much, maybe, but it was definitely progress.

**.Late Start.  
**By the time she walked into the yard, the game was over. She wasn't surprised. She had known no game would last three hours. She dropped her backpack at the edge of the patio and took a seat without a word.

"Ready to start training?" Richard asked. They had been waiting for her, without any discussion. Everyone knew training wasn't the same with four people.

"No."

"I'm sorry, okay? You don't need to-"

"That's not it, Richard. I couldn't care less what any one of you might say. I've just spent a few hours fighting off . . . a guy my father lets live in the basement. He'san expert on street-fights. Since I could actually start fending him off, it took longer than expected for him to get bored." A very comprehensive truth- the man was allowed to live in her basement, was an excellent fighter, and would have followed her. She had taken the time to convince him that his plan wasn't acceptable. She had still lost, but she had made him tire of the game. Victor didn't have to know about the many Saturdays she had meant to come over, but had been forced to nurse a few wounds.

"Who is he?"

"A cousin." Richard's curiosity was sincere. She couldn't fault him for that. She had told a grade-A rotten lie to someone who just might be a friend. But- the alternative wasn't good. _'He's really that guy you hear about on the news, known for disposing of bodies in nasty ways and never losing a fight. He's second in command in this town, so me walking over here's a sign that I expected his sleazy tricks, and didn't do so badly, considering I was up all night stitching up my mother after my dad decided to stop beating her up to take out a few anger issues because the police are getting suspicious of a cover business and other identity.'_ _Yeah. That'd go over well._

"Why is he living in your basement?" Victor hadn't heard this before.

"He's been there since before I was born, works for my dad's company- besides, my dad needs a son." They looked a little too understanding- but she felt a little better, knowing that someone else disapproved of the hated resident. "Just give me a few minutes to stretch, and I'll be ready to train."

"Everyone else is ready, then." Richard did not like long pauses, or sitting still when he could be moving. "We're doing improv-style battle today. Incapacitate- no permanent damage. We're taking turns acting the villain."

"So, fight with whatever, but don't kill anyone," Victor clarified.

"Basically."

"You will pretending to be the bad man?" Kori asked.

Richard nodded.

Garfield grinned. "We won't get you too badly, Richard. Rachel doesn't look up to healing at the-" he glanced over, to see what he could get away with. She was asleep, sitting on the ground and leaning against the patio, legs bent so her arms rested on her knees. She looked only more dangerous. She was at peace for the moment, but would not be when someone woke her.

It was an odd fight. The area around the porch was ignored to facilitate a sleeping Rachel, no one was ever zealous in attacking the 'villain,' and they were still tired from the night before. Kori tried her hand at villainy; no one even tried to land a hit. Victor was first to stop.

"This isn't working. We know we're good. What we need is field experience, after it's dark out. Besides, we could all use a real break." Gar needed it, but everyone else would hardly be hurt. Vic had felt smaller gashes adjusting to stitches, never a pleasant sensation.

Rachel woke up as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She reluctantly accepted an invitation to Angelina's, considering the only other option was a lonely trip home. Without verbal cues, everyone took their alter-ego's outfit- just in case.

They walked over. Rachel stopped, once, fishing two quarters from her pocket for a rinky-dink newspaper that usually only gave the date, weather, current gang politics, and body count. She read an article as they walked, handing it to Kori when she was finished. She tapped an article. "We need to name-drop."

Kori stopped. After a brief delay, everyone else paused to figure out why two fifths of the team was standing still. "You'll want to hear this, probably before Angelina's," Kori told them, trying to suppress a grin for the moment. "_Mysterious Masked Team Stops Theft_- we made the headline. Everyone want to hear?" It was a useless question, but Kori wanted to make sure she had her audience's full attention before she began.

"Late Friday night, a robbery was underway. This reporter witnessed four criminals breaking in to a small building, home to a Sisters charity collection house. In the midst of their break, five masked and costumed heroes tore onto the scene. They defeated the criminals, leaving four unconscious men of the Force gang ready for police called by this reporter. One of their number appeared injured, but- continued on page 2- walked from the scene. The unknown heroes have been asked to contact the Forston Police Station, preferably in person, for information about further cooperation." Kori finished the article, glancing at the byline. "Written by M. Cooper, and it gives an address and e-mail account. So, are we going to visit the police?"

"Yes." Richard didn't even have to see Kori's disapproving glare to rephrase. "I mean, I think it would be a good idea to have police collaboration, to give a place to get rid of criminals and to make the most of a difference. What do you think?"

"Go for it," Kori said, happy again as she returned Rachel's newspaper.

"Sounds like a good idea," Victor reasoned.

"I think we could use the validity of working with police." Rachel didn't particularly care either way, but just leaving defeated criminals laying about was fairly pointless.

"Let's do it." This wasn't the time for a joke, and Garfield knew it.

"We could stop by now, and go to Angelina's another night," Richard suggested.

Kori smiled. "That would be a fine plan." She let the rest of the team get a little ahead before making a quiet pronouncement. "Richard, thanks for being a part of the team." She caught up with the others before he could respond, and certainly before he could process the reason those words made him the happiest he'd been all- he didn't even know. Day? Week? Month? Maybe this making people happy business wasn't so bad.

**.Chief, Titans. Titans, Chief.  
**Five costumed teenagers walked into the police station. The receptionist, cracking gum loudly enough to be heard by any family's deaf great-great aunt, didn't look at all fazed. Instead, she looked them over, recognizing that there were few groups of teenagers in such costumes out at this hour. She pressed the intercom. "Chief, Cooper's rag-tags in to see you."

"Send them in," the intercom rasped. "And please, replace the intercom- it's only getting worse."

"Chief will see you now," the receptionist said smoothly before pressing the intercom again and speaking with a completely different tone. "I will as soon as you put out the money for it," the receptionist retorted.

"I'll put the money up for it as soon as you send these 'rag-tags' in, how about that? Some businessman made a contribution and thinks he's getting favoritism. Make sure to check out whoever this cover organization is, okay?"

"Got it- I'll send Wilkinson." The receptionist was a little more than a secretary. She rolled back her wheelchair- she had a gun at her hip. Her arms and hands worked perfectly well, even if her legs didn't. "I'll tell dispatch."

"Don't know what I'd do without you, Babs. Make sure the intercom's delivered tomorrow."

"Of course, Chief." The receptionist glanced at the teenagers still staring at her. "What are you kids waiting for? Just make a left- the door with the silver plaque on that says CHIEF in big black letters. Can't miss it, unless you're dimmer than you look."

Robin led the way, glancing back once. He could swear that he'd met her before, but he couldn't place the name or face or loud gum. He knocked on the door. Before his knuckles met wood a second time, it swung open. He drew his hand back quickly.

"Come in, sit down, all of you," the chief said, gesturing to five chairs crowded into the office. The mahogany desk was swamped in paperwork, and according to the neatly printed schedule with the times she was off work underlined in red, she had been off duty an hour and a half ago. "Now, I assume you're the Titans. We wouldn't let the journalist give descriptions, to make sure that everything meshed and we didn't get fourteen dozen squads of look-a-likes."

"We're the Titans," Robin confirmed. "That's been our only public team effort, after we trained together for a while. How much information do you need?"

"Just the basics," she said, drawing out a form from a desk. "I'll need the team name- Titans- aliases, and just a few quick questions. That's for the official paperwork. For me- I'd like to be a little more informed. No real names- I wouldn't think of asking. I'm Eve Philips- just call me Chief or Eve."

"I'm Robin, leader of the Titans."

"Starfire."

"Cyborg."

"Beast Boy."

"Raven." She looked at the others, visible only by the motion of the hood. "Well, this is awkward. Since we have no item of small talk to logically progress to, we could just exchange contact information."

Eve looked far from offended. "A girl after my own heart. This," she said, writing a number on a scrap of paper with a flourish, "is my private line. It leads directly to Babs, who can be trusted with my life. She'll get the dispatch on it, no questions asked- just let her know which numbers you'll usually call from."

Victor already had his communicator out, tweaking a few wires and switches. "Got it." He pressed a quick pattern of buttons- the phone rang. "Just a check- this is from the Titans' party line." He listened for a minute. "Yeah, I'll work on quality of the feed- homemade phones that piggyback satellites never work with complete clarity." He ended the connection after a final response, the gum again cracking far more loudly than completely necessary. "So, you could call us, if you ever need a problem slightly out of your jurisdiction taken care of."

Eve wrote down the number. "Okay. Technically, I should be discouraging you and advising you to help in other ways. As it is, how about I skip that because I know you won't listen. You've chosen a dangerous job, hobby, lifestyle- whatever this is to you. Was someone injured? Cooper isn't the most stable of sources- he tends to exaggerate."

"I was- some criminal or other sliced my arm with a switchblade. He was aiming a complete other way, lucky for me. Raven stitched me up." Beast Boy knew he had been lucky. Even if Robin never realized, that switchblade had been ready for a close-to-guaranteed fatal wound. That type of stab wouldn't be cured with a few stitches.

"So, you're a doctor?" Eve asked Raven conversationally.

"No. I'm not a nurse, either. I just know how to take care of cuts, scrapes, broken arms, sprains- all the usual injuries." The hood didn't muffle the monotone, but made her look a little less than benevolent.

"You wouldn't mind if I took a look at your work? I don't mean to be rude, but you all look about teenage, and-"

"I have no problem with that. Beast Boy, can you roll up the sleeve on your own?" Raven asked- it wouldn't be hard, but she knew that it would hurt. She guessed that he would refuse the help, at least outright.

He had it up to his cut before he decided pain wasn't good. "Okay, a little help wouldn't be too bad." He didn't have to say another thing- she brought the repaired sleeve up past the cut without so much as touching it.

Eve nodded. "Okay, so you have a medic. If you are ever hurt, Raven, or there is an injury you do not feel confident in healing, just come here, if you don't have your own contact. We have a med-bay of our own, considering the doctors at the hospital aren't always kind to cops who dislike gangs. The med-bay is staffed by people who I know aren't in the gang's pocket."

"Is there anything else you will need?" Starfire asked.

"You'll have fans. You might want to set up a P.O. box- just register it to Robin, since he seems the leader type. If you need help paying for it, the station might be able to help you out. If it's unsafe to talk by phone, I have a few friends who can slip messages into it for me." She was prepared for the worst. The gang had been more active than ever for the past few months. Most would say gangs, but she knew that there was only one with the many warring factions as small parts. She knew someone who had met the second-in-command and lived. That was enough proof for her.

"I'll take care of it," Robin promised. "Thanks, Chief."

"I haven't done anything spectacular."

"You are giving us the chance to make a difference," Starfire told her. "You don't see five teenagers in odd outfits."

"I see superheroes in the making, and Lord knows this town needs heroes. There is one, but so few people have ever heard of him. That Dark Knight guy- now there's a piece of work. He's never accepted police help, not once. You all keep in touch, okay?"

"We will," Robin promised.

That was enough. The Titans shook hands with Chief, then left. The receptionist watched them go, gum dropped in the trash bin. An odd tic like that would keep gang spies from looking too closely at the girl with the gun- someone might remember her as a girl that had visited the basement, a place that still gave her nightmares. "You know, Chief," she said into the intercom. "I think they have a shot."

"If you think they do, they must be something. What do you say we close down for the night? You know he'll get nervous if you don't check in with him, the silly wreck. I swear, ever since your father moved to Seattle and left you here to finish that senior year of yours, he's had more mother hen than anyone could have ever guessed."

"That was the last appointment for the night- I'm gone. See you tomorrow, bright and early."

"Don't remind me, Babs. Over and out."

"Over and out." She knew that Eve would be a few more minutes- she might as well leave. The new police chief took her job seriously, especially after the last had been corrupt. Wheeling out the front doors, down the ramp, and onto a block that had been fought away from gangs, she knew it had been worth it. That, and she was expecting some pretty nice overtime. Her other job didn't pay a dime, even if warm fuzzies were part of the job.

**.Lady Luck-  
**They met at Victor's house before their usual patrol time. The times before were used for getting into costume, stretching, and checking all last-minute things. One check was Rachel's, as she gave Gar's stitches a quick look. Having the dominant arm wounded meant that punching the wrong way could tear the wound or stop healing.

"Garfield Logan, if you try twitching just one more time. . . ."

"It feels weird," he informed her. "You are manhandling my arm and poking stitches."

"It'll feel weirder if you don't let me make sure you didn't pop a stitch on that idiot last night, on the way back from the police station. If something's wrong, then it would have been much better if you'd let me see it last night."

"I don't want the fosters to worry. I walk in the door before two A.M., and they're happy."

"Well, that works for Garfield. Everyone else have re-entry plans set? I can just go in through the side door." Victor's father was a sound sleeper, and would sleep like a log until after noon on Mondays, if it let him avoid a call from his ex-wife about her altered wedding plans.

"I have a pillar by my balcony with sturdy detailing- I'm set." Kori, sprawled elegantly on one of the couches in the comfortable Stone sitting room, loved the midnight patrol.

Rachel let go of his arm. As she didn't start asking for needles, he guessed he was safe. "I just storm out, then sulk my way back in," Rachel said with a yawn. That was more natural than sneaking out, and security was a bit too good for that.

"My uncle checks, sometimes- I just lump up pillows." Richard's uncle kept odd hours, but he always heard gentle snoring in his check of the master bedroom window. That was Richard's sign that a dull thump onto the bed wouldn't wake anyone.

"To Lady Luck," Victor said, raising a glass of clear soda. He wasn't out of his mind- the elaborate sitting room his mother had decorated in beige could stain easily. Non-clear drinks were for the kitchen or the backyard- the last thing he needed was his mother noticing stains on an impromptu visit.

"To Lady Luck," they chorused, laughing. The Titans forgot just one thing. Lady Luck dislikes being laughed at, and has the most contrary ways of showing this.

**-and Lady Luck's Revenge.  
**Their patrol had gone surprisingly well. They had stopped four muggings, a burglary, and a pair of drug deals- police had collected all attempted perpetrators. The police chief answered the phone within the first ring, and the receptionist lost her sarcastic tone. As she said, "You guys really are serious. Just please, for the love of all that's secret, identity wise, don't get as serious as the Dark Knight fellow, 'kay?"

Robin was dropped off a block away from his house, at his request. He never used the same route twice. He was the first to be dropped off tonight, and was near a row of three broken streetlights. He practiced sneaking through bushes, just for practice, to get rid of excess energy. He was still ready for another tussle- Starfire had taken care of the drug dealers with a bat of her green eyes, a left roundhouse, and a right hook.

He crept past his uncle's ajar window- faint snoring, with a hint of a rattle. From listening in on midday naps, Robin knew that he could drop a plate and have time to clean the house to his uncle's exacting standards before the man so much as twitched.

He was opening his window when he heard someone to his left. A moment's glance showed he was under attack. Robin, alone and without the advantage of starting the battle, blocked a kick before doing the only natural thing. He took the offensive.

His opponent was good. Robin did have the advantage of being younger- even through a bizarre outfit made sure he didn't get to see anything but the lower half of a stern face, he knew he was older. If that didn't clue him off, the weight would. In a brief spat of hand-to-hand, Robin definitely did not have the higher ground. Robin found out almost too late that they didn't have a complete fist fight.

He dodged a flying weapon, a skill he only had after a few early years of practice. That was it. He whipped out his communicator, using the brief gap as his opponent recovered from an off-the-wall flying kick. The man wasn't throwing sharp objects for the moment, at least. "Titans- Robin in," he said quickly.

"Having trouble?" Victor asked immediately.

Robin left the communicator on speaker, dodging a second flying weapon. "Yeah, some nut or other's fighting me. I don't think he's going in for the kill, but he keeps throwing sharp pointy things. Excuse me," he asked, with a tone that wasn't entirely polite. "Is there any particular reason you're attacking me?"

The oddly dressed opponent didn't answer. Instead, he started a fresh salvo of hand-to-hand combat. Robin carried on conversing, a habit from practice. "Well, he's not particularly talkative, but we're still fighting. I don't know what this is about. He didn't follow me here- he came from the other way."

"We're _en route. _Everyone's in the car. We'll be there soon. Holding out?"

"Yeah, I haven't seen a gun. And- just to get it on record, this is the oddest battle I've ever been in, including Starfire's goalpost move when we tried improvisation."

"He said anything?" Victor asked.

"Not a word. Can I know the name of the person so determined to fight me?" Silence. "I'm Robin." Another flying pointy sharp object- just his luck. _Drop, roll, dodge, try again. _"Leader of the Teen Titans." He saw a hand reaching for a blocky belt- _definitely a good time to start more evasive moves_. "Could you please stop throwing those things at me? I'll have to call the police chief, I hate bothering her this late, and this is past the time I usually think of as office hours."

"I'm with the Chief," he growled as a car pulled into the driveway. He didn't seem concerned that four costumed people were running towards them. "And you were about to enter private property, using something that didn't look like a front door."

"And you aren't?" Robin asked, as if talking to a child. "You're trespassing, too. That's just as bad as what I've done."

"No. You're trying to go somewhere you don't belong."

Robin hardly realized they weren't fighting any more. "How would you know?"

"You were trying to break into a bedroom with a sleeping teenager inside."

"You haven't looked in the window, and-" Robin blinked. _Oh._ "Well, this is a little awkward," he said as his friends ringed them. "But I think we're both hiding a little something, Uncle Bruce."


	9. Uncle Batman

_Yes, there will be an explanation, for all those who are confused and didn't find the title informative. For all those who knew who Uncle Bruce was, congratulations. For people who have been waiting for Bruce Wayne to get his sorry self in here, there you are. Richard has a different surname because he took his mother's. His father wasn't exactly the best name to put on public records, so he goes by Richard Grayson. Confused? Keep reading, and all will make sense. Eventually. As always, this chapter was influenced (even positively) by dr.evil99. Typos are my own responsibility, and in a chapter with a little over five thousand words- maybe I'll have a typo or six. So, please, only point out typos that confuse the plot or make you lose all faith in the English language.

* * *

_

**Chapter Nine: Uncle Batman

* * *

**

"Richard?" The man in the dark mask showed expression for the first time: incredulity.

"Yeah, that would be me. I don't snore, so I always lump pillows together before I go out, just in case." Richard was suddenly putting together years of oddities about his accountant uncle, like why the man never went to a gym and stayed fit enough to help coach the track team for one memorable year. Richard hadn't been a part of the team. He hadn't liked them- the Titans was the first team he had ever liked, excluding the father-son duo he remembered.

"I have a recording, made with pretty high-tech equipment. I've never heard you say anything more than incoherent statements, and I'm not a fathering figure."

"I guess you aren't following my dad's path."

"No. I'm moonlighting as Batman, the mostly ignored Dark Knight. Eve isn't happy with me, as my perps don't always come out intact. But- you really are the guy Chief mentioned?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Uniforms- they're not custom. Give me twenty-four hours, if she's available, and you'll have the best costumes that can be found. As a matter of fact- she'd be awake now. The reception's better out here. You can all check out my place- you need somewhere secure. Richard, it's the maple panel to the right of the grandfather clock." Dealing with someone very far from a juvenile delinquent, from all talks with Eve and Oracle, he had a much better idea of what to say.

It was oddly normal. The Titans walked in through the front door, where the grandfather clock amiably chimed once to signal the time. He found the mentioned panel. A cautious push on the center caused the never-used side closet to disappear into an elaborate staircase. Without second thought, the Titans descended.

At the bottom, chaos ensued as five teenagers looked around. The proverbial kids in a candy store had grown up and found something better. Richard headed straight for the elaborate gym. Victor found electronics and equipment to create compact devices that wouldn't be on the market for years. Rachel pulled down her hood, looking at a place where there weren't gaps in the fence to worry about, where her father couldn't follow. Kori flitted between friends, soaking up their excitement and admiring a row of costumes on mannequins. Garfield found a likely drawer beside a huge virtual monitor, which guaranteed flawless watching.

"He has GameStation!" he called, loud enough to attract Victor's attention away from tiny components.

"Really? Unreal- this man's six years ahead of online computer sales that technically aren't legal yet." Victor would happily use even the oldest parts- they were better than what he had to work with.

"He has a hologym." Richard was now flipping through control manuals. "He has everything from dark alley, singular, to a team infiltration of a circus where the villain is disguised in the company or dwindling crowd."

"May we move our training to this glorious place?" Kori asked, admiring a few sketches on the walls signed with lipstick- Batman had an admirer. The clues about the room showed someone liked him, and he had no idea. She liked reading people- especially when she could help them.

"I kinda like it." _Kinda? Next you'll be saying "dude." _She considered. _Well, maybe you won't degenerate that far, but watch it, Rachel. _

"Glad you do," Batman put in smoothly. "Well, masks off, folks- I think we can trust each other." His was already off. Kori recognized her father's accountant.

"Bruce, why did I not know we had this?" Richard had yet to stop nearly drooling over the fitness equipment.

"I didn't want you to got the wrong way." He was polite enough to not add 'like your father.' "Besides, what would I have done? Gotten a sidekick?"

"Would have been fun. But I'm a bit old for that- how about a coworker?"

"Sounds fine. Use the gym- you did more than fine in our little fight. Sorry about the batarangs, by the way- I thought you were trying to break in."

"No harm done, thanks to early training."

Bruce froze. "Your father did not."

"He did. No worries- your batawhatsits looked painful. Besides, rubber isn't that bad, and he did start out with just pistols." Richard didn't know of alternate childhoods. He had thoroughly enjoyed his.

"Just pistols- how old were you, seven?"

"Six."

"That's my brother. Well, he'd be proud, even if you will not be going into his line of work." Confronted with a surly seven-year-old, he had nothing to say, as Bruce, still partly in his Batman costume and persona- he could get along with his crime-fighting nephew.

"No, not quite." He might as well give the answer- Kori was about to start an interrogation. "My dad was in organized crime, but fed the local authorities enough money that they left him alone until he died. Then, they confiscated just about everything. I have a few things, though- pictures, a letter, and his journal."

Bruce just shook his head. "You heard the feds especially wanted it, didn't you?"

"It was in my suitcase. He must have known- he left it there. I've read it. The last few entries are all about the king pin in your area, the one that hardly ever leaves his house. His last lead was the guy's second-in-command."

Across the vast main room, Rachel froze in the middle of her examination of a wall of weapons. Only Kori was close enough to notice, and her attention was fixed on a display of weapons from tribes around the world. Rachel could have gotten Kori to respect space. Garfield wasn't nearly as good about respecting boundaries, but hewas luckilydistracted with a GameStation console.

"Trigon." Bruce knew of him. "He's bad, but leaves almost everything to his lieutenant. That's the man who dirties his hands with Force gangs. All the gangs are connected, not that most people know. I know. You know. The police, or those left in the force, all know. Most gangs themselves have no idea- they see a few people, are told to fight certain groups. I'm under the radar. You lot will be the public half to the equation, and hopefully will be considered useless by the gang."

**.Lady in Red.  
**That lovely sentiment was interrupted by a new arrival. A pair of shoes tossed down the stairs preceded her- a quick glance showed a designer name spelled out on the bottom in business-like gilt cursive. They were hand-made, by the stitching. The examination of the shoes, complete with nearly microscopic heels, made her presence seem sudden.

Her gown was as stunning as she was, fire-engine red and in some new cut that had yet to hit the mass market. A gold purse of tissue-fabric was hanging haphazardly from a hand, and she had the correct appearance that she couldn't care less about what she had thrown on. "Bruce, there had better be a good reason I was able to leave that infernal party- I've had my hopes up all the way here. That disgusting little French pig was at it again, calling himself a descendant of Napoleon Bonaparte. I was about to snap and bring up another classic version that must have had the same smell, but he owns that runway. I don't want to lose another one, even if three more would offer. Moving office is such a hassle, and you need to deal with the new models." She noticed guests, and broke her monologue. From the sound of it, she had needed to let out steam. A sweeping gaze took in costumes, and a grin spread across her face.

She hugged her usually reserved friend impulsively. He didn't look close to pushing her away. "You got me a costuming gig? I could just kiss you, Bruce." She smiled at a sudden outbreak of red across his face- he was too easy. He had tried stopping her a few times, when she was in the less legal part of her career- a little suggestive banter on her part, a little blustering on his, and she got away scot-free. Nice to see he was still just as susceptible.

"Uncle Bruce?" Richard interrupted politely. His usually stern and distant uncle was turning a pretty interesting shade of magenta, but in light of a new connection- he might as well be nice.

"Of course," their guest said. "Terribly rude of me, to skip introductions." Bruce would be ready for intelligent speech in a few more seconds. "I'm Selina Kyle. I work in fashion, but my uncredited designs are my favorites. I made Bruce's batsuit, my old outfit- well, it was the nineties, if that's any excuse, and the seventies were in- and most of my odder works were per request. You would not believe suggestions he gave me for his costume- he had to work to get the ear-things."

"Wait- Selina _Kyle_?" Victor asked.

"Yes."

"Aren't you the designer Mary Stone hired for an overly extravagant wedding dress?"

Her grin reached Cheshire proportions when she saw the family resemblance. "She doesn't know about my side hobby. And she does think highly of you- every other word was Victor, if not her fiancé. And your uniform will not look anything like that dress."

"What's wrong with our uniforms?" Richard asked defensively.

"Nothing. I'm keeping concept, I'm just adding disguise. Besides, the fit and quality could be better." She stared at Victor, sketching without glancing at the pad of paper pulled from the gold purse before she had dropped it to rest with her shoes. "There. Like it?"

She had a quick sketch- a better-fitting mask, a complete machine look reinforced with clever design on the limbs and torso, with just a hint of color. She had already moved on to Kori, keeping a carbon copy of the sketch for herself.

"Wow. You know, most people aren't this good at one area of a career." Victor was impressed- this and wedding gowns?

"That's right- keep the fashionista pleased. Keep that sketch- I have a visual memory and a carbon copy just in case. Now- Starfire, right? You have the right base, but the color is a bit off- if you don't mind, I'll tone down the violet to not clash with your hair. With eyes pretty as yours, you don't want too much contrast."

"It's perfect," Kori announced, showing Robin her sketch. He had to agree- Kori looked just as good in sketch as she did in person.

"Robin- love the mask. Well, the color will make sure no one's memorizing your face. Don't glower- it's not an insult, it's a vital thing for secret identities. Kori can do her hair differently- I'll show you if you have a minute. That always helps." His costume would have a better fit, and a junior model of Bruce's belt- some of his gadgets didn't come in duplicate and took years to learn to use.

"Beast Boy, is it? You need to be a wild card, being shorter than the girls on the team- plain facts, from a villain's perspective. Now, I think you had the right idea, but make the whole face green- it's amazing what you can do with a bit of latex. Cover up your hands with gloves, just to keep a bit of mystery- definitely purple for the outfit." She glanced at her sketch, then at him. "You already have a little of a green tone to your skin, very slight- I'm used to finding tones, and you'd look nice in either green or purple. _Contrast, _kid, take it easy- anyone who makes something of it can talk to my stilettos. Literally- I have a bladed pair."

He grumbled, but accepted a sketch. Well, could be worse- and he was still curious about having a green face. Selina was ignoring his reaction- she had a final client.

"Raven. You have the mysterious and brooding type look going, but you can and will inflict serious bodily harm on whoever messes with you. I love the belt- you just need something to add. But we'll do this." She presented her drawing with a flourish. "If you ever figure out what the last piece is, or if I do, we'll make it happen."

Raven looked from Selina to the drawing, then back again. "Are you sure this would work? And I assume the cloak isn't staying black."

"You have a figure hidden under that cloak- trust me, I work with supermodels. You need mobility. If it bugs you, keep the cloak shut until you feel like opening up. The cloak's cumbersome enough- you'll need the extra boost in motion. The dark blue will give you a little more color. No monochromatic outfits- it'll look nice."

No one else saw Raven's preliminary sketch. She folded it too quickly, withdrawing into her cloak. She would keep that to herself, thank you very much. Maybe the others were enthralled. She would wait for the finished product, then decide if she liked it.

**.Unveiling.  
**It was a tense moment. Everyone was ready, and waiting, less than twenty-four hours later- Selina only had to alter many of the items, and staffs of assistants made scattered pieces. Bruce had the honors, and Selina's insistence. "Three . . . two. . . one . . . open."

Five Titans, a part-time accountant and vigilante, and a fashion designer opened their eyes to see the rest of their team. The look was perfect, and looking at the team- they felt a little stronger. No one broke the silence until Selina judged it was time to move on. "Free of charge, of course- this is too much fun to pass up. Just refer trustworthy superheroes to me. Extra uniforms will come within a week, let me know if you don't have a repairs person, and remember that these things won't go through a washing machine without messing up the stitching- use Bruce's laundry."

"Let's go try them out." Robin smiled, a sometimes dangerous expression. The new mask was mobile, moving with his face, and Bruce had shown him the way to throw batarangs. Robin now had his own set- Bruce had christened them birdarangs, and not mentioned the new color scheme someone had hand-painted onto a few of them.

"How about- south? We haven't hit there recently. Besides, I would love the nicer neighborhood in the bad part of town to catch a break." Victor felt a new identity in place. He wasn't playing dress-up. He was Cyborg.

"I claim the seat of the previously fired gun!" Kori said exuberantly. All but Selina and Bruce knew Kori had shotgun, a name for the front passenger seat. A quick few pointers on hair made Starfire much different from mild-mannered Kori Anders.

"Long as I don't get middle again," Gar countered, experimentally grimacing at the idea. The face-fitting mask had been created from a mold, and made him entirely green. It fit perfectly, except for a snag that let his left incisor emerge in a fanged smile. He liked the effect- if Selina's smug I-meant-to-do-that grin was any indication, she did, too.

Raven hung back for a moment, letting the others go ahead. "Thank you," she said, more than a little uncomfortable. This was not in the standard Ice Queen repertoire. "No one's ever done something like this for me."

Selina didn't give Raven the impetuous hug that anyone else would have gotten. Raven needed her space, and Selina knew it. Besides, what dark superhero was hugged by a fashion designer? It didn't suit the aura. "It was a pleasure. And on that team up there- it'll happen again. You go kick some villain arse for me, will you?"

Raven pulled her hood forward. "I will." But not just for Selina. Some for the people who needed a hero, some for Selina, some for Arella, some to spite Trigon, and a bit for herself. She could fit it all in- there was plenty of crime out there.

**.What's the Buzz.  
**The crime they found was fairly typical. The tiny bank in the midst of a decaying strip mall was getting broken into. The culprit in charge of breaking through security was a diminutive man with a few surgery tools adapted to alter electrical current and wiring. He companion was big enough to make Victor wary. Raven wasn't watching the big guy. She'd found the leader.

Robin spoke quietly. "Cyborg, take the technophile. Star and I can get the big guy. Raven- go after the punk with the pink hair. Beast Boy- make sure there aren't more of them. Basic evasive maneuver if there are, same as last time. Ready?" Everyone nodded, just once. The robbers had ignored a car, and five teens huddled in a crouch on the other side. "Titans, go!"

Starfire and Robin kept pace, going after the big guy from both sides. He was faster than anyone his size had a right to be- this could be harder than they thought. Starfire had enough problems not being pushed back- the giant hit hard, and wasn't scared of trying to hit a girl while taking out someone else with his back leg. Robin hit the dingy sidewalk hard, rolling to recover and attack again.

Cyborg had been considering going easy on the little guy. He didn't expect the squirt to be strong- a flash of arm braces with a few injector pads answered why there was an impossible concentration of strength in the little guy. _Just my day- illegal performance boosters. _

Raven and her target were close to evenly matched. Neither had typical hair- pink and purple were bordering on odd. They didn't exchange a single insult- instead, they fought in a blurring series of punches and kicks and blocks. Raven was close to gaining the upper hand, and was slowly driving her opponent out of the open and closer to the other fighters. She would need a little help for a blow to knock the pink-haired girl out.

"Attack pattern Epsilon!" Those three words were the first thing pink-hair had said all night. The big guy had grunted a few times, and the short guy fumed under his breath. The Titans didn't have time to wonder what this meant. The two males backed off just as their "cornered" leader took out a support beam, leaving a square of overhanging tile to fall on Raven. She barely got out of the way in time- as it was, the corner drew a bleeding line on her leg.

Cyborg's opponent gave a parting shot of motor oil, right into his eyes. Robin was about to dash after the pink-haired girl when the shortest of their opponents threw a globe of smoke, obscuring the entire area.

"We got the gob-eaters, Jinx," they heard a voice in the fog say. Cyborg recognized the short man.

"Yes, we did. Gizmo, Mammoth- go ahead. I have a final message," she said quietly. In an area that silent, the sound carried easily.

"Who sent you?" Robin called. He knew this wasn't a break-in. They had been waiting for the Titans, in a clever little trap he should have seen through. Next time, he will.

"Slade," she called back- that was the last they heard from her.

Even through heavy smoke, the team could almost see Robin's eyes narrowing. "Who's Slade?"

Across Forston, someone was watching through a buttonhole camera his smallest associate had left overhead. The boy wouldn't know it, but he was looking directly into the view screen. He smiled, even if no one would know. "You'll see, Robin. You'll see."

**.Tell Me What's Happening.  
**"Slade? He's with Trigon," Bruce said. He hadn't thought he would be answering a question like that for his nephew. "This doesn't make much sense. He's putting out a message, that he knows about the Titans. But with just a rinky-dink article- he knows something. This is too coordinated."

"No one would have told," Victor said, sure.

"Not anyone here," Garfield agreed.

"I can trust these friends." Kori wouldn't consider another possibility.

"I doubt any of us have met Slade- he's as infamous as Trigon in the fact that people who meet him are usually dead." Richard didn't trust anyone.

"He probably keeps tabs on anyone interfering with his gangs. He is their chief enforcer." Raven disregarded everyone else's statement, telling herself she was deep in thought.

Bruce agreed with Rachel. "Slade and his personal gangs kill all who try to cutting Trigon out of profits, or break away. Not many people know about enforcers."

_Lie. Three. . . two. . . one. . . _"It's from my dad. He doesn't like me to know that much." _He wants me to know all of it, because you're looking at the person born to follow him into the business._

Richard nodded. It made sense that her circumstances would be similar to his. "Why would Slade send people?"

"Because he's a manipulative bastard who enjoys mind games." Rachel could stop the comment. _That's it. No more talking. _Her sudden silence was misinterpreted.

"Is that why your father's so distant? Perhaps encounters with Slade have altered him." Kori was always ready to be sympathetic.

_It's more like Trigon altered Slade to be more unstable than he was before, with that kidnapping, but I'm not supposed to know about that. _"I guess so- my mom tries to make up for it." She wished she didn't have to lie, but- the alternative wasn't attractive.

"How is the baby?" Bruce had heard about a forthcoming child, and was more than happy to get away from the topic of encounters with Slade altering people.

"Coming on eleven weeks Thursday. Everything's coming along great, and we're having a trimester party next weekend, just me and her, because she's busy next weekend." No one had to know she would be watching as gang leaders invaded her house, coming for the annual conference. She would be in the back corner, as always, but this year she would take notes. The Titans could think her father was a spy. Her father would think she was showing an interest. Everyone else would be happy.

Richard was still focusing on the matter at hand. "We need to figure out why we lost."

"We weren't ready," Raven said frankly. "They pulled away after what basically amounts to a warning. The girl had too much prior time to check out the area- Jinx, they called her. She knew all about the area. We were on their turf."

"Their slimy little oil slick is shot full of gadgets."

"So kick him," Raven suggested.

"Didn't you see? My foot practically bounced off- I stubbed my toe on him."

"I saw a right footed kick, Cyborg. Use your left. If you cause a little damage, Eve may forgive you."

"Could someone please explain why Rachel keeps making cryptic comments about Victor's foot?" Garfield did not like being left out of something other people knew.

Victor didn't say a word, at first. He just rolled up a pant leg to just past his knee. From part of the thigh down, his leg was completely metal, rubber, and polymers. His leg was complete with rubber tendons and electrical wiring and bending anatomically correct joints. "My dad's in electronics, my mom's in medical research and engineering. This is the last thing they made together."

"He brushed me with it, once after he got it. Luckily, I'd tripped over a sprinkler head. I knew, though, when he was in the wheelchair for awhile missing a leg." Rachel was blunt, as always, but gave only as much detail as he would feel comfortable with.

Victor smiled at a fond memory. "I still beat you at basketball."

"Could we drop that?" she asked, but her sarcasm wasn't very mean. She was the closest she came to joking around. "I told you I hate the game. I only played because on turf you were slower than a slug in molasses." The other Titans could begin to see through her scowl- she wasn't completely mad.

"Well, I'll try kicking the git next time. For the big guy- send Garfield and Kori. They're quick. Richard, you can float around and help everyone," Victor suggested, closing off the subject. His prosthetic limb was already covered. Rachel hadn't touched any sensitive parts of his past, like the reason he had a fake leg. She knew his limits.

"Next time, pinkie won't get her back against the wall, and we'll be on neutral territory." Rachel knew she and Jinx were close to equal in fighting. Jinx was just more used to being creative.

"We'll be ready. I'll watch," Richard agreed. "Victor won't hold back, Kori can go straight for pressure points while Gar tries distracting the mammoth, and Rachel can anticipate cheap moves. Gar, it wouldn't hurt if you were a bit more aggressive." Richard found weaknesses almost immediately. He could be critical, maybe, but he was worst on himself.

Bruce had slipped out in uniform to take care of his own patrols. Gar had a suggestion. "We can train tomorrow. Video game tournament on the big screen?" He knew Richard was ready to give in. "I brought battle games."

That settled it. "We have four console ports- someone can sit out every game.

"That would be me." Rachel took a heavy tome from her backpack. She could stay in costume- she liked the cloak. "I prefer reading." That, and she hated guns, even virtual ones. Even touching one was enough to make her shiver. Her father knew. That's why she still had lessons, why she had been trained until she could hit moving targets in dim light at the age of- she needed to meditate. She had heard too many people die. It didn't sound like video game imitations. _Gunshot, beginnings of a scream, impact, thud, silence. _Her father had killed more people than she cared to count, just in the room by the front door.

"Are you sure? It's fun, just a bit violent." Victor was looking over the cover, trying to find the player settings.

"No. I do not like video games, much less scenes that grotesque." Her book was out.

"You stitched up my arm."

"That was different. I didn't do it in the first place, I fixed the problem." She was done.

Gar was not. Kori was listening to the rules of the game- this could be awhile. Victor had given up, but Richard was going to see this little exercise in difficulty through. "So, Rae, would you prefer to do something else?"

"Ra-chel. Or Ra-ven, if not in school. Two syllables, Garfield. And I was reading."

"Gar, for me- one syllable. Garfield is either an assassinated president, a fat orange cat, my foster parents, or my social worker calling with bad news." His doctors and nurses all knew him as Gar. Everyone loved prodding at his condition, since there weren't many cases like his.

"Gar, then. Go away."

"Why do you work so hard to close yourself off?"

"Why do you work so hard to be annoying?" she asked, not bothering to answer the question.

"It's a skill."

"Then it is one of few you possess."

"As long as I do it well, then-"

"Go play video games." She didn't say it with any real venom or sarcasm. "You have nothing in common with me. It's nice of you to play show-kindness-to-the-mean-girl, but I'm not in the mood."

Victor hadn't heard Rachel over the theme song of the video game. "Gar- we have to start now, before Kori thinks up some other question."

"I'm coming- and maybe you're not looking hard enough, Rachel. We're both hiding something- there's one thing."

Rachel pretended not to hear. They didn't understand. They couldn't. It was bad enough that she was here, that Rachel Roth was no longer completely inapproachable. Her father knew. He always knew what she was doing, but her constant "discreet" follower had been lost in tenth grade when she told him she was tired of it. She left while everyone was focused with the video game. She didn't notice that she wasn't as discrete as she would have liked. They saw her. Friends were not easy to fool.

"Why does friend Raven not enjoy our company?"

"She doesn't mean it personally, Kori." Victor was still the best at predicting mood swings and explaining motives. "She's adjusting. Last year, I bet she spent twenty hours with me. Besides her runs, that's the only time she isn't at her house, I think. She'll never complain. If you want to hear why she's moping and trying to hide it, you need to push with just the right amount of force."

"Too much, she pushes back, too little and she shrugs you off." Garfield was used to her evasion- she was as good as he was. "And I need to head home- it's getting late." He had been in late for the past few nights, and knew that his foster parents waited up for him, even if he never saw them.

"I'll drive you- you know a walk this time of night through this town without anyone there to make the gangs think twice isn't good. Kori, you need a ride?" Victor asked.

"Yes," she said, disappointed as she was to leave. "I shall see you tomorrow, Richard, but I agree. Being alone this late is at all not good."

**.Not Alone.  
**_Not good, _was Rachel's first thought when she walked in her front door. Her father's "office" door was open. The housekeeper wasn't keeping watch in the front room. Rachel was ready for the voice from the rarely used parlor, never lit properly. After years of the occasional unpleasant visit, she had yet to see anything but his outline and the barest details of the room. She never had looked inside outside of the rare father-daughter event.

"Daughter." There was no warmth in the word, usually a term of affection. He said it possessively, reminding her of the fact that he had contributed to her birth, however little. That meant that he had say in her life- well, that and the fact that he easily had one hundred fifty pounds of muscle on her, and more underlings than she or anyone else could count. He wasn't exactly sure how many were in his employ. "We need to talk."


	10. Id

_To answer the most recurrent questions: Rachel does have a past that will come up, so please don't ask me about it any longer. Yes, Garfield does have a secret or six up his sleeve. When and if he will divulge this will come up in a later chapter. Batman trusted Robin because he was his nephew, and Eve vouched for the Titans. Besides, he felt bad that he'd basically ignored the kid for ten years. Yes, dr.evil99 does do something to deserve the habitual plugs- plot consultation is a narrow field. Yes, I will stop rambling and get to the story. No, I haven't talked to a psychiatrist recently.

* * *

_

**Chapter Ten: Id

* * *

**

It was normal for Rachel to not say a word at lunch. The heavy book she carried, with mildew gilding the edges of the pages, was normal, even if it had been absent for a week or two. Sipping tea without regard for a near-scalding temperature was just as normal as breathing, for her. Ignoring Garfield was normal, and standard operating procudure. But- Rachel would listen to Kori and respond to her questions without her usual level of scathing. Normally, at least.

"Will we all accompany Richard this afternoon when he goes to arrange a box at the office of post?" That could only be Kori, even if the others hardly recognized her speech as odd any longer.

"I think he can manage the task himself," Rachel said without looking away from her book, much nastier than absolutely necessary.

"Rachel, are you snapping at Kori for any reason, or are you just being you?" Richard always defended Kori, even if he didn't realize it.

"You being at the table is more than enough of a reason."

"Rachel. You did start this." Victor was reasonable. "Don't take it out on Kori- or Richard," he added as an afterthought.

"I- didn't sleep well." That was an apology, from Rachel.

Kori took it. "There is no offense, friend Rachel. Perhaps you would like to share why you had such a bad night of sleep."

"A nightmare." That was the closest to the truth she could come. _And convincing my father that you guys were worthless, but a good way to cull out weak gangs. It was in your best interest. Slade's watching us, and he's bad enough,_ was the full explanation she couldn't offer.

"Gar- you too? You haven't said four words today." Victor knew he wouldn't get anything further out of Rachel. That little speck of unclear detail was the most she would offer. Maybe when Rachel wasn't at school, where she still felt that she needed to keep her distant reputation- then she might tell him something.

"I'm just thinking. I need to stop at the pharmacy after school. It's a block and a half away from the post office."

"Everyone can wait in the store while I reserve a post office box in costume," Richard suggested.

"Right after school, then? We could meet at Victor's car." Kori hadn't thrown in a single odd turn of phrase, but it was still early. She had plenty of time for her daily collection of odd phrases.

"At my car," Victor said. "Will that work for everyone?" He waited for the consensus. "Good, because Chief wants a box yesterday- we've been getting mail."

**.Simple Errand? Never.  
**"This is the store, Gar?"

"Yeah. This is it." Rachel had seen the store before. Kori was- well, Kori. She wouldn't notice the neighborhood's appearance in the brighter light, and had been to his house. She'd probably seen worse. Victor drove him home, and wouldn't say anything. Richard- well, Richard wasn't the nicest gnome in the garden.

"I need a few things." That simple statement was the only prelude to Rachel disappearing into slightly crooked aisles. She had shopping of her own to do.

_Of course. I just come to this store every two weeks. He's a part-time employee. Naturally, he would be working wherever I need to be whenever I come in. _Gar wasn't exactly sure why the one worker he always saw hated his guts. His foster mom had pressed criminal charges when the employee had gotten a little too friendly with another foster child, but that had been long before he was near Forston.

"Garfield." The employee currently acting as a (undoubtedly uncertified) pharmacist cut straight to the point- almost. "Your freak girlfriend isn't here to protect you. Don't know why she ended up with you- she's pretty, for a corpse." His voice reached through the store.

Rachel, nearby in the medical supplies aisle, froze. Kori started for the voice, Victor at her side. Someone was picking on their friends, and they did not like that.

"She isn't my girlfriend, Adonis. I don't need my friend to show you that I'm tired of being pushed around. You've been messing with me for three months. That's over today." He had a few new muscle groups, after training, and was ready to use them.

Rachel stopped Kori and Victor. They could step in, but only if he needed the help. She recognized the set of his face, determined and ready to win. He'd either win, or go down after a very good fight. She would place her bet on the latter. Adonis wasn't known for his strength in contact hand-to-hand, but she'd step in if they were too close together.

"You trying to pick a fight, wimp? Just because you have a few friends on the fancy side of Main-" He stepped out from behind the counter, walking through the gap where a hidden door should be. The store had never bothered to replace it. "You want a fight? The manager's sleeping, security cameras are out. There'll be no proof to show the reason we'll need a janitor in aisle five."

"If that's what it'll take. You're done picking on me." Gar felt like he could do this. He hadn't been this confident since- that wasn't important. He couldn't remember, anyway.

"Am I, now?"

"Yes." Garfield's left uppercut, his weakest move, was faster than Adonis could follow. Adonis was a wrestling prodigy. He barely reacted, instead charging forward farther to join the fight. It would take more than a punch to bring him down.

Adonis used every low-down trick he had ever known. Garfield avoided them, keeping a careful distance from the larger opponent. Gar had collected a few bruises, but Adonis was doing much worse.

The fight had to end. Gar took the initiative; Adonis was winding down. Gar delivered a neat round-house rabbit punch to the "sweet" spot on the temple, as Bruce termed it. The big guy was down. Gar took the bag marked with his name the cashier, paid, and walked out. Rachel followed the rest to the car after paying for her purchase, just in time for Victor to regain his voice.

"Garfield Logan," Victor said, once all four were in the car. Gar, hero of the hour, was riding shotgun. "That was the best fighting I've seen from you, man. I wish we did have that on tape. Even Richard wouldn't find a problem in your technique- just aggressive enough, but you didn't go too far."

"You vanquished your enemy," Kori said, reaching over the seat to give a very light spontaneous hug.

"You needed to do that, and a bit of good fighting never hurt. With Kori- Mammoth's going down." Rachel was being oddly nice, but it was his moment.

"It was nothing," Gar said. "Okay so it wasn't," he amended after a dead silence. "But it was something I've wanted to do for a long time, and not just to Adonis. I don't like bullies."

"Robin," Victor said, pulling the car to a stop as he spottedthe costumed friend. Richard took a spot in the back seat, ripping off his mask when the coast was assured clear. "So, we have an address?" Victor asked.

"We have a post office box, and seventeen solicitations for movie, book, television drama, and exclusive interview rights." He held out a heavy sheaf of envelopes, fanning them out to show a few famous trademarks in the addresser's corner.

"I'll write a general reply," Rachel offered. "We reserve all rights, including all media, commercial, costume, trademark, performance, and literature, both domestic and international." She had heard more than enough such transactions to understand such things.

Richard considered. "That would cover everything. I have a few letters the mail carriers could finally deliver. Chief has our address- I left it with her receptionist through a phone call." He still couldn't place the familiar voice of the gun-wielding secretary.

"Garfield won a fight with a guy twice his size." Victor felt that was an important detail.

"The guy deserved it," was Rachel's only comment.

"So, you'll be ready tonight?" Richard asked. "I want to find the three gang members for a rematch. No use waiting. They might have some other message to deliver, and we'll be ready for them."

"I'll be at the basement by seven; I have a few things I need to do at home." Gar was being vague, again. No one brought up his usual evasiveness. He'd earned a respite from the usual prying.

"Seven sounds good- Bruce promised a new warm-up."

"I will not be present for the dinner part celebrating Connie's six-month anniversary with her current beau. I'd rather avoid it." The small act of defiance was a first for Kori.

"We'll do it tonight." Rachel rarely offered anything close to optimism, but she had a little confidence in their fighting. "Everyone knows what to do."

Garfield agreed. "No holds barred- we're going to win."

**.Winning a Fight.  
**Rachel walked through the front door at 6:58, finding the panel to press without looking away from her current book, homework for an English class. Technically, she was past the required reading, but she hadn't wanted to stop. She descended the revealed staircase with nothing more than a cursory glance from her book, walking to the changing room she had chosen. The door was unmistakable, plain wood with RAVEN spelled out in neat block letters. She nearly collided with Gar, noticing only when he knocked the book from her hand- she stepped aside. He didn't move.

"Excuse me," she said, a standard polite reflex, sarcasm at a minimal.

"You better watch it," he said, in a tone very far from his usual good humor.

"I was being polite," she said levelly. "Now, assuming this is not an extremely distasteful joke, I am not at all sorry." She traveled the last few feet to her room, slamming the door for the first time.

"Friend Garfield, you were most rude to Rachel. Perhaps you need to have to be cheered to an elevated position?"

"No, Kori, and the right phrase would be 'cheered up.' You sound like an idiot when you can't speak proper English."

"Gar, you need to stop sniping. Now. Rachel has a thing called tact, and everyone here is used to her walking around with her nose in a book. Kori was, as usual, being nice."

"And you?"

Victor couldn't understand what had happened. Personality transplants were a figure of speech. "I'm trying to figure out where my best friend is."

"He's right here, and not taking any more crap." Gar's voice had an overly-confident edge, one Victor didn't like at all.

"_Adonis _gave you 'crap,' as you so eloquently put it. We did not, do not, and only will if you keep up the macho-man act."

"Well, I'm tired of you, all of you. You're always bossing me around, Victor. And Kori- learn how to act _normal, _would you?"

"Garfield-" Victor couldn't stop him.

"And Richard- the guy's the most irritable and antisocial guy I've ever met. Don't even get me started on Rachel."

Victor knew this would be bad. He had to try. "Gar, don't say anything you'll regret. I don't know what's wrong with you, but forget best friend ties- you crossed the line when you wouldn't take Rachel's apology."

"Rachel is a freak. She always needs attention, whether she's not playing her hardest or being little Miss Healer. She never has a nice thing to saw about anyone, but that's all fine and normal. She is not teammate material. She's the morbid witch to watch headquarters, really."

"Garfield." Three Titans in uniform glared at him, Victor's voice taking a rarely-used underlying tone. This was the voice he had used on a basketball player known for hitting his girlfriend. That boy now was very nice to his new girlfriend, who knew of past happenings- the other girlhad broken up with him. "Stop it. You've already maligned everyone on the team. One more slight against a teammate of mine, and this gets to be something more than you screwing up."

"If everyone's going to throw a fit, I'll just keep playing the guy who no one takes seriously."

"You are not taking us seriously," Kori said gently. "We can forgive stress making people say what they do not mean."

"What if I did mean it?"

"Then you need to decide if you want to be have friends or not." Victor didn't understand the change, but it wasn't for the better.

"Look. We're all going out in an hour. Until then, we'll all spend a little alone-time." Richard had avoided the confrontation, but this was something he could do. Maybe this would blow over. Hopefully.

**.Round Two.  
**It didn't. Four minutes before the Titans left for patrol, Rachel left the changing room. She was no nastier than usual, but she did ignore Gar to sit beside Kori. On the way to a location reported by Eve about the gang they were looking for, she began a conversation about a biology assignment with Kori, pointedly ignoring the third biology student in the car. Chief told them the three were known as the HIVE, similar to the bee anatomy quiz they would have the next day.

Robin made the announcement as Cyborg brought the car to a gradual halt. They were close to a fight. It was time for their alter-egos. "Starfire, help Raven with Jinx. I'll back up Cyborg when he takes on Gizmo, but help Beast Boy with Mammoth whenever he needs it." Richard saw aggression as a flaw in character for social dealings, but knew that Beast Boy would be a better fighter. There had to be bad for any good, after all.

They left the car a block away, in a nice little neighborhood with a fresh coat of paint on bedraggled trim rotting below the cheerful linoleum surface of the siding. The place was a haven in the midst of openly ruined areas, streaked with hostility but not yet outright blight. This little area still had hope.

Robin saw them first, beginning to break into an innocuous garage with a fresh coat of bargain-variety whitewash that was already starting to fade. "Titans, go!"

They went. His earlier strategy worked easily. Starfire and Raven worked together from training, and quickly had Jinx hard-pressed to block attacks, let alone make some of her own. Cyborg ran in behind, finishing the hardest part of the fight by studying a backpack with a power cell as he sparred with a much smaller opponent. He pulled the plugs from the (illegal) hydrogen fuel cell, disconnecting equipment from the power source. Without technologically gifted strength, Gizmo was easy to defeat.

Raven and Starfire lost no ground, taking down their villain with ease. Jinx was good, but being faced by two gave a clear advantage to the people working on the legal side of the law. At their thumbs-up, Cyborg patched his communicator to call Chief's secretary.

"Too much aggression, Beast Boy. He's out. You're done." Robin tried his hand at talking his teammate down.

"Friend Beast Boy, please cease the violence."

"Hey! BB, you need to stop. The big guy's down for the count."

Raven had the best solution, and the least social inhibitions. She grabbed a still-flailing Beast Boy by handfuls of costume on his back. He nearly punched her. She didn't bother assuming a defensive stance when he raised a gloved fist, even if she did involuntary tense. "Beast Boy, I really don't think you want to do that." _Maybe he'll listen._ If not, she'd have a lovely bruise to leave on his left bicep. She wouldn't mess up her stitching. That would mean making him sit still, and she wasn't about to deal with him in his current mood.

He lowered his arm, scowled, and moved back to the car. Raven only had one comment before following, leaving Robin to make sure the police could easily pick up the criminals. "Well, someone's in a worse mood than I am for once."

**.Beastly Boy.  
**Wednesday was awkward. Rachel ignored everyone, Kori couldn't break the unhappy mood, Richard was still trying to understand what Slade could want with his team, Victor was trying to keep damage at a minimum, and Gar-

"You are eating my sandwich," Richard said slowly, annunciating clearly.

"Yes, I am," Gar agreed after swallowing a large bite that made dressing shoot dangerously close to Rachel's book that wasn't at all for school or pleasure.

"That is a salami, roast beef, and turkey sub, with cheese. It has meat, dairy products, and isn't at all related to tofu. It was from a restaurant that sells more meat in a day than the mass of the tofu you've eaten in your life. And it was mine." Richard watched the last of the sandwich disappear.

"Yeah, it was."

"Perhaps after school you would play the four-player game of magic and fungus," Kori suggested, bringing the subject away from meat. A very disgruntled Richard accepted half a sandwich from Victor, who invariably had edible food.

"The adventure mode of Monkeys? Sounds good with me." Victor didn't need an excuse to play video games. "You like the part of the game that needs four people to play- everyone in?"

Kori smiled when Richard agreed. Gar was the unexpected dissenting vote. "Nah, I was going to go to the arcade in town."

"Could you not play with us?" Kori didn't understand.

"Okay, we'll not take up your time." Victor didn't know where the Garfield Logan he had met was, but the new version was far from an improvement. "So, Rachel- we need a fourth player, if we're playing the version Kori's really good at."

Kori granted a special extension of her usual smile to Victor at the compliment. "We are aware that this is not your tea of cup, but perhaps you could join us, Rachel."

"Fine. Just make sure this isn't permanent." Rachel returned to her book after looking up as Kori and Victor were talking to her, a new courtesy.

"After all the times I've asked you and you've put me down?" Gar demanded.

"You need to either straighten out or not come near me. I have enough people in my life with no common decency. I don't need this from you." She left as the bell rang, followed by three Titans. A scowling Gar was left alone.

**.Bringing in an Expert.  
**Richard talked to Bruce after a very tiring night of patrol. The team could barely restrain Gar from causing too much damage, and Rachel's odd trick of talking him out of whatever rage gripped him was losing its potency.

"He's- out of control," Richard finished, winding up a summary of the last two days. He thought the previous day's fight against the HIVE had been excessive. That night had just been farther than he could imagine.

"Are you exaggerating at all? You do tend to see the worst in people, a family trait just about everyone seems to have inherited."

"No. It's like he's a completely different person."

Watching Gar, Bruce had to agree. "Does anyone have any ideas? Any and all personality changes that happen this rapidly have always involved drugs."

"No one has any idea- it was sudden, the day he finally beat Adonis. Yesterday, but it seems like a longer time ago. But that shouldn't have changed him that much." Richard prided himself on his ability to analyze people, but this was not logical.

"I'll bring a friend in to check him out. She works late, she's very discrete and will keep results confidential for us to deal with, and his change just might be medical."

"It can't hurt." Richard needed an answer, closure to the question. He disliked question marks, when period were simple. They meant a sentence was done, a clear statement made. Question marks left too much in the air. Pamela Isley had an interesting side job, in addition to being an expert on chemical alterations on living beings. She specialized in plants, but could cross theories to humans when needed. She was also the strictest teacher, biology or otherwise, Forston High school had ever known. She recognized current and former students briskly, saving for later reasons for why they were in what Bruce's friends termed the Batcave.

"Victor Stone- physics, right? Well, you always were better with electronics than photosynthesis. Richard Grayson- chemistry, and if you're here, you must be past that pyrotechnics display of your sophomore year. Kori Anders, I just read your paper on ecosystems in Africa and why the Masai have a better system than safari tour corporations- very nicely done. Miss Rachel Roth, I take it this explains why you asked for an extension on the photosynthesis essay- there will be no drop in grade." She listed names, running through a quick check. _He must be the patient. No one else has changed from smiles to unbecoming glowering. _"And, Mister Garfield Logan- please focus better than you did in class today."

"Whatever."

Rachel looked up from a school-accepted book, one without mildew. Instead, there was the usual crude graffiti marking pages about subjects the usual immature high school student would find amusing. "This is too sudden for a behavioral factor. All hypotheses listed point towards a chemical imbalance." She shrugged at an inquisitive look from her biology teacher. "I read ahead, into the Abnormal chapter of the psychology book."

"Good idea- Strauss won't get there, and that's the only interesting section." Isley had a small selection of tests. "If you ever want to learn more, I know a licensed psychiatrist who specials in real abnormalities." Ignoring a rude student, she took culture samples from inside a cheek and a fingernail clipping. She did suspect a chemical issue of some sort, and would find out how long it had been there. The last test would not be popular.

"I need a blood sample. I am not patient with people who squirm, and am not used to working with people. Almost all my experience has been through morgues, testing cadavers." Anyone else would have gotten a laugh at that statement. Pamela Isley was imposing enough that not one student or friend thought of laughing.

"Rachel stitched up my arm. That's her domain- anything with blood." Gar made the helpful suggestion intoan insult Rachel chose to disregard.

"I could do it." She took the skeptically offered syringe, found a vein without more than a glance, disinfected, and drew blood neatly, handing off a full syringe and discarding the hypodermic needle.

"Gross, but Rachel," was Garfield's only comment.

Dr. Isley ignored him. "Thank you. Maybe I should have done it, after all. That would have required me digging around in search of a vein, always a painful experience. But- very nicely done. I'll run tests. We'll have results by Saturday, as I need to let the cultures mature." She shrugged at aghast looks. "Send it to a research lab, you'll wait at least eleven days and will have to explain any results. Saturday, I'll be bringing a psychiatrist with me."

"Thank you, Pamela," Bruce said, accepting a handshake. "I couldn't bring him to a hospital- you're the first person outside the Titans to know."

Pamela pursed her lips in a lemon-sour frown, considering the only possibilities for such a sudden change. She wouldn't have believed it, except Garfield Logan had been a model student, if one with a perpetual sense of humor. "I have an idea. I don't like it. I'll call you- no, I'll stop by. The outside combination's still the same sequence, right?"

"Still the same," he reassured her. "You haven't been away that long. Say hello to your psychiatrist friend, will you? And tell her congratulations- I haven't had the chance."

Pamela nodded, expression a little softer. "I will, don't worry. Tomorrow, I still expect full participation in the class discussion about Darwin's theory and its applications to plants," she told her current students, her infamous cold look in place. They could see behind her mask, just the littlest bit- she was as good of an actress as Rachel, with years of experience. She left, giving a slight nod to current and past students. There would be no preferential treatment, except for perhaps relaxed due dates. She had seen the names on the dressing rooms, and Richard had been fingering his mask, the way someone would run their hands along a fine silk scarf- a material comfort.

Richard had an announcement. "Tomorrow is break day. We all need to sit out- no crime fighting unless it pops in front of you." Bruce had pressured the decision when Richard mentioned it, confirming it was the best idea. "Gar, take care of your personality transplant. It's not an improvement."

"Good idea, on both parts. I'm heading home. Christiana hasn't been having an easy day- morning, afternoon, and evening sickness." Rachel left quickly, knowing there was a base of truth in her words. Her mother hadn't been having an easy day- she never did- but today was especially bad.

"I'm heading home- anyone need a ride?"

"I will accept a ride," Kori said with a yawn.

"Count me out." Gar left, pushing past Rachel in the foyer. Besides staring after him, she gave no acknowledgement that he had done so.

"Something is not right." Kori was sure.

"We'll figure this out." Richard could keep his determination, the single-minded resolve to find the obvious solution to a problem that helped him so many times before.

"But will he let us?" Victor asked. No one answered. No one knew the answer- or maybe they just didn't want to admit it.


	11. Ego

_Chapter titles will be explained in the next chapter, by a person certified to explain the matter. I'll leave it to the expert, who just happens to be fictional. This chapter has a bit of blood, but I have made sure no details slip into real gore. I think this is perfectly acceptable in a teen rating, but it's only fair to give a warning. I think everyone has a pretty good idea that something will happen, so I'll leave you to figuring it out. The experts for motivations and reasoning were aided by dr.evil99, as always. (Haven't figured out why I keep mentioning him? Go read his story, especially if you like seeing Beast Boy in his natural habitat: a well-written story). Heh- someone's reading the author's note. I feel special now. For all those still reading, the next chapter might take a couple days. I need to revamp one scene, but the wait won't be more than a few days. Probably.

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_

**Chapter Eleven: Ego

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**

The impromptu armistice lasted longer than expected. Rachel could have slept and contributed the same amount to whatever tepid discussion was the talk of the lunch hour, Richard tried puzzling out Garfield and Slade simultaneously, Victor didn't try to break the uneasy peace, and Kori's smile wasn't quite as wide as usual. With no one saying more than the bare minimum to him, Garfield had little to contest.

The unannounced truce ended Friday night, after an afternoon of combat practice and drills. Gar was, again, too aggressive. After landing a real blow on a teammate instead of a virtual opponent for the eighth time, Rachel shoved back. She was tired of the nonsense, and never had been patient with people.

"You are not yourself. I never thought I would wish the old Garfield would bring himself back, but I do not like the new and devolved you. Could you snap out of it?" Her words were angry, but her face was as composed as ever, and her voice betrayed nothing.

"Why do you have a problem with the new me? Why does everyone?" he asked, with enough of a snarl that Rachel almost backed away.

She didn't. Someone had to make an attempt to get rid of whatever ego trip this was, and she had proven herself adept at deflating egos rapidly. "The new you is nothing to be proud of, Gar. You're eating meat, being rude, using enough aggression to make Richard think you're going overboard, haven't told a single irritating joke in days, and Shelia managed to patch into my communicator to figure out what happened to her son." Her expression and voice remained steady, but it was clear that she was furious.

"_Foster _son," Gar corrected. "She shouldn't be prying."

"Listen to yourself," Rachel continued. No one else was about to step into the battle. Richard had been forbidden from emotional matters until further notice, Kori hated being angry, and Victor knew Rachel had a better shot. "Remember the Gar I met, the guy who made vegan spaghetti? You are not that guy."

"Maybe I'm not. Maybe you're just afraid of change."

"Some changes are good. Yours is not."

"Well, _Rae, _maybe I'm not fooled by your aloof act any more. You're as weak as I used to be."

"I am not weak." There was steel in her voice to back up her words.

"You are. Why else would you be so intimidated? You look afraid- it's all over your face." He thought he had her.

"That's it. I'm going home. I didn't think the Titans would be patrolling today. Good night, Kori, Vic, Richard. And Gar- maybe I was afraid _for _you." She swept up the stairs, the only word for the dignified departure from the Batcave. The door to Bruce's front room, and then to the front door, shut with a quiet _click._ She did not slam doors to make her point.

Victor had seen enough. "Garfield Logan, this macho business needs to stop. Now. You've just alienated a friend, and she doesn't change her mind easily. You are not on her favorites list right now. Come to think of it, you're not on mine. The team voted. If you don't clean up- you're off the team come Monday. We're giving you time. There was only one dissenting vote, and that's the reason you get the additional grace period."

"Who, Kori? She's too trusting."

Kori shook her head. "No. You are far too violent, and the person to give you another chance just left because of your behavior. She thinks you are probably reacting to her, so she pushed us to accept the final grace period."

"So you're all against me."

"Gar- you're against yourself," Kori said gently, as kindly as she could manage.

She was the first to speak again after Garfield stormed out. "Perhaps he will confront whatever problem it is that causes him to act oddly."

"Maybe, Kori." Victor didn't share her optimism for a uniformed friend.

Neither did Richard. "In that state? All he'll do is cause trouble, uniform or not."

**.Playground.  
**Rachel went to the one place she could think. Not her house, not the Batcave, not Victor's yard, not anywhere she had needed to come in years. This was the site of her one happy memory before six, when her vivacious and rebellious mother had taken her to the park. Rachel found the same swing, once uncomfortably high and daunting. She took a seat, shifting on hard-formed plastic, faded with time. Once, it had been a bright blue.

"_Go on, Rae. Just get on up there- I know my girl can do it."_

_So Rae had done it, hoisting herself up into the swing with her arms on plastic-coated chains and promptly tipping backwards after her quick effort to get onto the swing. Her mother was there to catch her, easing a young Rachel back into the swing, not letting go until she was sure her daughter was not about to fall off._

"_Good job, Rae. Now, I'm going to push you, okay? When you're going forward, kick your legs out and lean back. Coming back towards me, bring your feet under the swing and shift your weight forward. Ready? Here we go."_

_Rae had the knack of the motions quickly, with her mother's encouragement and practice gained from her various lessons. Some little girls had piano and ballet. Rachel had wrestling, weapons, and various martial arts. She liked the results of this lesson, delivered with patient reminders instead of barked rebukes that would make a drill sergeant think twice about saying such things._

_Swinging through the air was almost like flying. She noticed her mother wasn't pushing her any longer when Arella took the other swing in the playground, making an elaborate pantomime of not being seen by any imaginary observers. Rae could do it alone, all by herself- but Arella was there, swinging with her, so they were side by side as they navigated a tiny portion of the sky. A party line, Arella called it- or it was until Rachel pushed forward, laughing all the way when she felt the sunny day's air brush against her cheeks and make the warm feeling inside spread to all skin touched by the sunlight._

_They stayed all afternoon, until they had stopped pumping their sore legs and were slowly moving to a stop. "You did it, Rae. Remember- you can do things alone, but you don't have to. And- let's see a smile. Your father doesn't like them in the house, but he's just a grouch."_

"_Then why do you love him?" Rachel asked. She knew about love, from the picture-books her pre-school teacher read to the class. Rachel had the special tasks of learning extra math. She knew how to read. Her mother had taught her when she was little, a game they played. No one else had a father that forbid smiling, or laughing, or hugging, or even talking about what he wouldn't allow._

_Arella's smile grew wistful. "You can't control love, honey. But- if he ever hurts you- if anyone ever hurts you- I'll be there. I promise."_

"_And I'll help you," Rae vowed, with all the solemnity a four-year-old could offer. "Whenever you're hurt, or if anyone ever tries."_

"_You don't need to promise, Rae."_

"_But I have. No changing the past, right?" Rachel quoted a favorite saying of her mother's. A girl of four, no matter how grown up, couldn't understand the bittersweet emotions behind the words Arella said so frequently._

_Arella nodded. "Right. Who you were is past and can only be accepted, who you are is present and can be defined, and who you will be- that's the most important. The person you will be can be changed, starting in the present. Now, enough serious talks. How about we stop for ice cream before we go home?"_

"_Ice cream?"_

"_Ice cream, love. Your father is overly strict on many things, but young children can always use ice cream. Even older ones, like me- you're never too old for a bit of ice cream. Some day, when he's on a prolonged business trip, I'll make you the best breakfast you'll ever hope to find. No eggs, except in the batter, no bacon, no sausage, no toast. Pancakes with a pat of butter, all drowned in maple syrup- a perfectly delicious and unhealthy way to start or end a day."_

"_So what's ice cream?"_

_Arella laughed, but Rachel didn't mind. She loved her mother's laugh- at once pretty and raucous, and not about to be quieted. Arella never laughed, at home, except in quiet giggles that seemed more like a teenager from the giant place of bright colors and loud sounds called a mall than a mother. "I'll show you, Rae. You'll love it. Come on- we'll come back to the playground another day."_

It had been a lie. Maybe the lie wasn't intentional, but it was still a falsehood. Arella had never taken her to the park again, never disobeyed Trigon's whims (which were the same as orders, in most houses) again (especially not so blatantly), never made pancakes, and, worst of all- she had never laughed again. Arella had not laughed since Rachel was four. She had forgotten her promise to protect Rae, she never called her daughter Rae, or mentioned love in any context. Arella did lip service to the word, but only at formal dinners, and she said it so that even a five-year-old could see that the word didn't mean a thing. Rae had been back to this playground only once, after she had done the Unforgivable and needed to cry in peace. She had cried only once in nine years, a record that wasn't good enough.

Lost in thought and sitting on a gently swaying swing with chains in desperate need of oil, she heard someone behind her too late. She whirled as a blow landed on her shoulder. An involuntary cry of pain and surprise escaped her when she felt something sharp ripping through her skin, leaving a gash above her right collar bone. A surface cut- her attacker had not expected her to turn at the last moment.

It was too dark to see her assailant beyond a dim outline- the flickering floodlight from the school was at his back. She could tell the attacker was male. He charged, hands grabbing for her shoulders- she dodged before guessing where he was aiming. She stepped back from another attack, a punch that left him no time to recover. She moved from behind the swing, into open ground.

He- roared. It was meant to be frightening. She would not admit it, would never admit it- it was. She was scared. She saw an outline she recognized. _Just my luck. _She braced herself, ready to fight him away and hopefully not take all night. Too late, she saw a further complication to the fight.

He had brass knuckles with a short blade attached across the hand, the reason she had shallow gashes from his first blow. She had evaded a fist, not extra protrusions. A hand shot to her right shoulder, and sticky blood touched her fingers. This was not a fight she would win bare-fisted without a few serious injuries. She couldn't get her hands out of commission. That would mean that she was gone, unable to defend. She'd have to block from his forearms, always harder to do.

He moved faster than she expected- she blocked a roundhouse left, but the upper-cutting right scraped her chin when she couldn't whip her head back fast enough. She had to guard her neck, but without moving she would have put herself in more danger. He didn't bother with kicks. The weapons he wore on his hands had a wave-edged blade that would do more damage.

He pressed his fists together after she had blocked all strong punches and sustained only one cut that bled more than a few trickles of red. Four blades emerged, spaced perfectly for nasty slashes. She was in trouble. She was fighting defensively, which always took more energy, and he- she knew his motivations.

The new addition to a very dangerous (and very illegal) pair of weapons bolstered his confidence. The renewed reckless attacks showed a dangerous fact. Even if she did land a series of kicks and quick punches, he did more damage with one slash than she could do in six. She was losing energy, fast, and her communicator was in her backpack, neatly tucked into her uniform.

Maybe- new parts from Bruce had let Victor toy around with a few new capabilities. She didn't know if he had added his newest feature to hers, and calling for help might make her attacker- finish whatever he meant to accomplish. She had guesses, but didn't want any of them to be right.

She had to get help. Soon. Cuts scored her arms, ripped across her chest too close to her neck for any comfort, a few shallow lines marked her face, and her back was a mess. Cotton tee shirts did not guard against sharpened metal.

"Titans, do you read?" Her attacker would not be surprised to hear her other identity. She had never prayed before, as far as she could remember. Her youngest days had flashes of friendly people in pews, surrounded by glowing pictures of glass and powerful music. She tried to summon that feeling- maybe it worked, because she heard a voice.

"Raven?" Victor responded almost instantly.

"I'm being attacked, at the playground by Marsden Academy. Brass knuckles, and you've met the guy. It's-"

A few slashes through her backpack with high-quality blades meant that her communication was ended. It didn't matter. They would come. She knew she had three friends who could be there for her.

"No calling for help, birdie."

It was the first thing he had said to her. He was coming after her, again, weapons ready. She was not happy. "_That _is what you call me? All this fight, and it's dragged down to a sub-elementary level. Lovely." She knew she was going down. She was in a secluded playground with two entrances too narrow for a car, flanked by thick hedges. She wouldn't make it- even if she did make her dash out of the playground, she would fall all too quickly. Once her assailant heard a motor, she was as good as gone. He would finish what he meant to do.

He moved in. She knew it would be the last time. That smile- it would haunt her nightmares, if she was lucky enough to have them. He could kill her. With all she'd seen, she knew she could be seconds from death. She was too tired to fight any longer. She had lost too much blood, and spent too much of the previous night fulfilling her promise to her mother. She had helped Arella, when her mother had been hurt.

In a side-ways punch aimed for her heart, she had only one option. She couldn't dodge enough to miss a hit and be ready to fight again, and was too exhausted to fight. She felt the disorientating dull tingle of blood loss, and her wounds were beginning to ache as nerves reminded her she was injured. She took a final opportunity to get help.

She screamed. It was not her first choice, but it was certainly effective. She fell, more by accident than design, and landed roughly. She was very grateful for the pebbles that broke her fall, with the absurd fixation and pure concentration on a single thought that meant she would be blacking out very soon. Sand would be hell to get out of her many cuts, woodchips too likely to splinter.

Through the last remnants of consciousness, she heard a new arrival. Face angled to the side, resting on the ground, she could see who was responsible for saving her life. A last downward slash with eight knives was stopped, and she watched as the fight was drawn away from her. Feeling oddly safe, Rachel stopped fighting against the blackness.

**.The Cavalry.  
**Robin, Starfire, and Cyborg raced through the narrow gate, ready for action. What they found was Rachel down, out of uniform and in a very fresh pool of blood, Garfield leaning over her. He had to have turned her over, by an imprint in the pebbles marred with blood. She was limp, head leaning back at a too-relaxed angle as her closed eyes looked at nothing.

"Garfield?" They couldn't remember who said his name.

He stood, scrambling backwards after gently lowering Rachel to rest on the ground. "Back off." His posture was aggressive, his stance was predatory- and his voice was a low growl that seemed too deep for someone of his size to make.

"Don't make us fight you, Gar." Victor knew that Rachel needed medical attention, five minutes ago. They had no time to try dealing with the new and disliked Garfield.

"Friend Garfield, you must allow us to help Rachel. She is sorely wounded."

"He knows," Robin said. This wasn't a time for niceties. He was here to save a fellow hero. "Last chance- let us get her to safety. You can go on your joyless little way. Just let us take her to where we can get help."

"Go _away,_" was Gar's only response.

"We won't leave a man behind. Titans, go!"

Richard couldn't land a kick that fazed Gar, and couldn't get within five feet of Raven. Victor had the same luck. Seeing Kori wasn't having any success, he made a strong left scissor-kick. He didn't feel any triumph when he scored a direct hit to his friend's torso.

Nothing happened, except a brief stumble backwards. Gar regained footing too quickly, and was fighting again before Victor could recover from the sudden motion. Garfield held the three of them off, keeping them out of the area around a fallen Rachel. The fight wasn't going their way.

"Starfire, do it," Robin ordered. They weren't making any progress.

"Richard, I-"

"Just _do _it, Kori. Sob-stories can besaved forlater. Rachel is in danger."

Her expression crumpled into nothing but unease, without any distaste. She did as asked. She used her three-punch combination with never-explained origins. Gar went down, with a cry that made Victor wince. Kori stared at her fists like they weren't a part of her body, even after her fingers finally relaxed.

Unconscious, Gar looked- peaceful. For the first time in days, angry lines disappeared. Vic already had his cell phone out. "Operator? Please put me through to Dr. Pamela Isley, and tell her the call is about Garfield Logan."

That had the desired response. Dr. Isley answered the phone. "What is it?"

"It's less about Gar than it is about Rachel. She's messed up, pretty badly, and we need a doctor." Victor spoke a little faster than he usually did, and handed the phone to Richard after punching the button labeled SPEAKER. Victor put himself in charge of lifting a very bloody Rachel. He had no doubts Kori could carry Rachel just as easily, but he could support his friend's entire body a little better. Kori took no offense, scooping up an unconscious Gar with an uneasy glance at the still-offensive hand that had made a fist.

"Who did it?" Pam asked, voice ringing into the night around the empty school. Tomorrow, before the children went out to play, someone would have to replace some of the gravel. This occurrence was more frequent than the school liked to admit, so a custodial technician didn't report the incidents. Instead, he ordered more gravel whenever his supplies were low.

"We don't know yet," Victor said. "We're at the Marsden Academy playground- two unconscious Titans, one bleeding and one temporarily not aggressive."

"I'll be at Bruce's in two minutes," she promised. "My computer's running on analysis- Harley can bring the results there when the matches come up. She's a psychiatrist- she'll run an evaluation on Gar." She hung up- she needed to grab a few things, fast. If they were calling her- the could be bad. She had to be prepared. She would be.

**.Stitchery.  
**Batman slipped into his basement to be ushered into the side room, a little-used store room that currently housed a small set of chairs. He was about to protest, but Kori very abruptly hushed him. That alone was enough to keep him from demanding answers just that moment. Something had happened. He listened, trying to guess why Victor was restlessly working on salvaging parts from pieces of a communicator and Richard was pacing. An unconscious Garfield slouched over three chairs, occasionally watched by Kori when she wasn't observing another process in the main room.

About to break the tense silence and ask what was going on, he saw Pamela emerge from the side wing of the Batcave. He had to say something. An old friend he hadn't seen ten times in three years was in his conference room, wearing rubber gloves slick with blood and a tired look. "Pamela?"

"Bruce, take off the mask. You know that thing makes it impossible to have a conversation." She started her small spiel before he could begin reaching for the mask. "Rachel was attacked, and Richard scooped up a pair of brass knuckles drenched in blood from the scene. That's the weapon, with a few fingernail gouges on open wounds for variety. She's out cold, which is for the best. The oldest wound is shallow, before her muscles tensed up fully. Someone attacked her from behind."

Pamela cut off interruptions with a stern glare current and former students could recognize. Bruce shut his mouth. Seeing that no one would interrupt, she continued. "She was fighting through the attack by whatever beast did this to her. She has defensive wounds, and saved herself from being far worse. I've stitched and dressed everything. My work isn't quite as neat as hers, but it's more than adequate for healing."

It was a long speech. It took just as long for Bruce to process that a Titan had been attacked- it didn't matter if she was in or out of uniform. "Could I see her? I want to know how badly I should pulverize whoever did this." He clenched his hand around his held mask, ready to jam it on and go off in search of the culprit.

"We don't know," Victor said, cutting off whatever Richard had been ready to say. "We found her with-" About to point, he stopped. A very groggy Beast Boy waspulling himself up using the backs of the chairs. He settled with sitting up. Standing didn't seem wise, when he felt like someone had smacked him over the head with a brick.

"What happened?" Gar asked. He had to concentrate to control the motion, but he managed to rub his eyes. The texture wasn't right- there was blood soaked into his gloves.

Richard couldn't believe the nerve. "We found you with her. You know better than we do, Beast Boy." He placed the slightest emphasis on the first syllable of his name.

"Know what? And who? Kori?" He looked around, finding two teammates, Bruce, and Dr. Isley.

"Fine. Dr. Isley is here because someone else was attacked." Vic left Garfield to figure it out.

"R-Rachel?"

"Yes, Rachel. We found you with her. We need to know what happened," Richard said, eyes hard behind the mask he had yet to remove. _"Think." _

"I don't know what happened. You have more answers than I do- I just remember coming home from the drug store."

"Gar, we found you with a very bloody Rachel. If you won't tell us what went on, we'll have to assume the worst." Richard was oddly calm. "If there is not a good story to explain why you were holding her, you will be the prime suspect in the attack."

"I wouldn't hurt Rachel." He was emphatic.

"Gar, you haven't been yourself." Victor couldn't think of how to break through to his friend. For the first time in too long, Gar wasn't snarling. But- Vic didn't know how to cope with a clueless Gar, when it could be an act.

"I haven't?" Garfield was genuinely confused. "What, did someone get me?"

"Gar, this isn't amusing. Drop the clueless act." Richard took the attack on Rachel personally. He should have known, if someone on his team wasn't trustworthy. He took little satisfaction in the fact that he had tried to get Gar off the team. That had been for the wrong reasons.

"What act? I remember- beating Adonis, going home, and business as usual- coming back here to fight." He glanced at a clock. "Why are we here so late on a Monday, anyway?"

"It's Friday, Gar." Victor couldn't believe Gar would attack Rachel. Maybe- maybe he could prove it. "How about this? Rachel had a few scratches not from illegal contraband. Just ditch the gloves, we look at clean fingernails, and we're set." Victor wanted this over, and the focus switched back to finding whoever had attacked Rachel.

"So, clean fingernails and Richard will stop being anal?" Gar asked.

"Good enough," Richard agreed, ignoring the slight.

Garfield took off his gloves, pulling both off at once in his usual way. He stopped moving just after the motion, and four Titans and two adults started at his fingers.

They were covered in blood.


	12. Superego

_And here is a completely unnecessary formality, for your viewing (or skipping over to get to the good stuff) pleasure: I don't own Teen Titans. I believe my profile has covered this, in the forms of alterations I would make for the series. (Want hints on pairings? Look at filters, and the profile. Authors are nice to people who read the boring bits at the top.) For this chapter, dr.evil99 was the psychology expert behind the resident psychologist, and the catalyst for a few delayed muse reactions. Here's a game: how many comic book characters can you find in this chapter? Winner gets the warm fuzzy feeling of being an unrepentant know-it-all.

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_

**Chapter Twelve: Superego

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**

Gar was having a very brusque medical check-up in his dressing room, an unrepentantly messy collection of more things that he cared to enumerate. His first instinct had been to wash away the blood. Dr. Pamela Isley refused to allow any actions of that nature for a few minutes, instead taking time to swab five different samples, then leavinghis squalid roomto bully Bruce into getting out his microscope. Finding that Bruce did not own a centrifuge suitable for her needs, she left for her own lab with more than a little muttering, promising to return with results and a psychiatrist.

Victor was the first to notice the beginnings of hand-tremors. Gar was sitting with the rest of them, grouped in the area of the basement usually reserved for working out. No one had gone into the other wing, even if Dr. Isley had gone. "Gar? You feeling okay?"

"I forgot my prescription. I'll just take it now." He hadn't forgotten a regimen of pills in years, but this was a different set of circumstances. He pulled a plastic jar from his chaotic room, opening the container and catching the pills in a cupped hand in a quick motion so no one could follow. He accepted a glass of water, and was finished before anyone could get a glance of anything but a few colorful capsules.

There was a brief respite, until Kori allowed the others in to see Rachel. Her breathing and pulse had settled. Bruce had a tiny medical bay tucked in the corner of his conference room. The cot folded out from the wall, along with a few pieces of medical equipment Bruce didn't quite understand. He had needed them when an earlier assistant insisted they have a medical bay, just in case. The bay hadn't been enough, but was still there. The only screen easily recognized was a heart monitor, with a persistent beep reassuring in its irritating noise.

She was paler than usual, but blood was cleaned away. No wound severely compromised modesty, but Kori had found a light cotton sheet to drape over the patient. Lines of stitching crossed just above the blanket's edge, sewn in different colors of thread. There weren't enough sutures to choose one color, and wounds varying in severity needed different weights of thread. A pad below her back made sure that her body weight wouldn't press into the cuts beneath her.

Kori checked the notations on the pulse monitor just like Dr. Isley (Kori couldn't bring herself to call the sometimes-professor "Pam") had explained. "Her heart's going strong. She lost blood, but not a dangerous level. She'll be fine after a few days of rest. Right now, there's no way she's straining herself without popping a few dozen stitches."

"Will we be reporting the culprit to the police?" Richard asked, failing to insinuate something.

"He deserves it," Gar asserted.

"We only have one suspect right now, Gar," Victor said uncomfortably. "And- it's you."

"I did _not _do it," Gar said quietly, with all the force of a roar. He ignored doubting thoughts in the back of his mind. "If you can't trust me, I'm out of here. I won't give you the argument you deserve. Rachel doesn't need the extra stress of the yelling match that would produce. I didn't hurt her."

"We'll follow. Her attacker will get justice." Robin looked ready to move- his mask was on.

Gar knew the basement well. He was near the stairs. He kicked the power surge circuit, and the basement went black. By the time power returned, he was gone. Richard made a snap decision. "We go after him. Kori, you took him down before. If he gets anywhere near Rachel- take him down." She wouldn't be any use in the field, when she already had hesitated about punching an obviously dangerous person. "Vic, we'll circle the block- you take side roads, I'll grab the main. Bruce?"

"I'll try finding out who sold the knuckles- they're a custom job." He left without further prelude to find his source, dialing a cell phone. "Nigma, I'm making a visit- you tell me about a set of knuckles, I won't remember who our perp got them from." Bruce spoke on his way over, taking the car that Victor had eyed appreciatively. No one rode in the Batmobile when Batman was on the prowl, and the Batmobile was only used while on patrol. It was his car, and that wasn't about to change.

Ed was tricky to deal with. Bruce, now fully into his Batman guise, waited him out. He needed to make sure Ed was receptive to the idea before he reached the store. Ed Nigma didn't like to rat out customers, but he had been through several good deals with Batman. No one else in the town had the goods Nigma could get- it was a rarely-used partnership both liked to have. Batman had a few newgadgets to use in fighting crime, Nigma could get out of scrapes.

"Knuckles? That's all you're calling about? They're not bad."

"I'm talking about a bladed pair- with extendable knives. Somebody used them on a girl- sneak attack from behind. The SOB would have killed her." Bruce didn't quite believe that Gar was the villain. Knuckles were expensive, and the kid looked a little too wet behind the ears to know the things came with knives on request.

"A girl? Don't hear that often. Was she armed?"

"No- civilian clothes, sitting peacefully, he had to go out of his way to find her. If I come in there, will you give me a description?"

"I get a choice? No way. You're too kind, Bats."

"Here's the choice, Ed. I come in and get at least a very good description- I _do _know how you operate, courtesy of a few friends, and know that I could ask for a picture- and a description. If you know a name, I get it. You don't, you've aided and abetted someone guilty of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder, and felonious possession of illegal weapons, Class A on the current penal code. So, are in you in, Nigma?"

"Shop's open. I'll help. I remember this guy- he asked for them special."

**.Strike.  
**Victor saw motion ahead of him. He paused, and watched a telltale glove move into hiding behind crossed arms. "Gar. I don't think this is what you want to do. That's understandable. I want to help you, man."

Garfield stepped out of the hedges that lined the sidewalk. He still had the new arrogance in his walk. For the first time, Victor noticed that his friend's eyes were the slightest bit unfocused. Green wasn't supposed to be that dark, was it? He could barely make out the pupils in the green, but didn't remember a color from before the whole drama to compare the new color to.

"I don't think you hurt Rachel. She knew who it was, but if it was you- you know that she would have said so. Besides, I know you. You wouldn't do it." Victor could see the beginnings of progress in a relaxing posture. "I know you're nervous, but she'll be fine. She'll be awake by morning, by all readings." He paused, letting the words take effect.

That was the moment Robin spotted them. "Cyborg! Stop him!" Robin was at Cyborg's side when Beast Boy tensed, lapse forgotten. Cyborg frowned, trying not to show the expression. He did not want to fight his friend.

**.Riddles.  
**Batman casually leaned against the counter of the local pawn shop that moonlighted as an illegalities boutique. "No, Ed. I don't want to buy. I want to know who bought a set of custom gold-finish brass knuckles."

"Not many of those. And really, those weren't knuckles. They look like them, but they have nobler origins. They're based on a few ceremonial Filipino weapons, knockoffs made with slightly better technology. That design would be called a Kris, really, so 'knuckles' is a highly inaccurate term." Ed knew his merchandise. It was a very efficient way to drive up prices. The item asked about looked most like a nasty set of retractable claws, like a cat's. Retractable claws kept themselves sharp, and gave a very nice surprise advantage. Used against even an armed person, they were devastating.

"Ed, why did you sell something that dangerous? The thing looks like someone stuck four knives in a pair of already bad weapons. They ripped up the girl really badly. If she wasn't a damn good fighter, she'd be dead." Behind the mask, emotions could only be guessed on most days. Today, it was clear that Batman was not happy. When Batman was not happy, Nigma might lose a few shelves worth of merchandise to a very disgrunted vigilante and his cape.

"It was a good idea, though, meant as an alternative to switchblades. Switchblades are just inelegant- and sell for next to nothing. I'm a businessman, remember? Some of the pretties I sell you are highly illegal." If Ed had one soft spot, it was for the fairer sex. He'd lost to enough girls in fights to know that the idea was silly in his line of work, but it still remained. He was hoping the tiny bit of chivalry would get him a date that didn't end in being barred from a restaurant, cinema, or public park. "Still, the guy who bought the Kris said that he had a pretty formidable enemy to take up, someone in deep with Trigon himself. I couldn't know he was off to slash at some acquaintance of yours, much less sneak-attack an unarmed girl."

Anyone who would sneak up on an unarmed civilian would have no qualms against lying, not that Nigma would think of that. "So you'll remember, but won't be of any help." Batman knew enough to understand Ed. Ed didn't want to say a thing. "So, I was thinking about going fishing this weekend- the usual jaunt out to the countryside Saturday afternoon. Anything big out the usual way?"

Eddie nodded gratefully, jerking his head towards a recorder. He had taken Batman's call from a convenient alley where he had made a few clandestine purchases. In his shop- he had to be more careful. "Huge- not the biggest lunker in the lake, but the next biggest was nibbling. You remember that trout, right?"

Batman understood. The two had created the system years ago. It had started as a really bad joke on Ed's part, but had ended as a code that made no sense to anyone else. Batman had never regretted the informant he'd earned by saving a weedy businessman from an angry gang faction. The leads he'd gotten over the years were more than worth it. "I remember. But- I guess you can't help me with the exact name of the purchaser. Write down the next time you'll have my usual buys in."

Ed complied, folding up a slip of paper after scribbling a few quick notes- all the Dark Knight had asked for, spoken or not. The buttonhole camera beside the recorder had horrible resolution, so Ed could end up without too much trouble from either side.

Stepping outside, he slipped down a block to his car. He unfolded Ed's tip, ignoring the riddle that Ed had included at no additional cost. Nigma still harbored desires of becoming a stand-up comedian. No one thought he was funny. That didn't stop Ed from being ushered off several stages to showers of whatever projectiles were available, accompanied by derisive laughter and a chorus of disapproval. Hopefully, Ed was still walking the border between the gangs and those who fought Trigon and his ilk. It wasn't a bust. Bruce would believe this name. It was-

**.Monitor.  
**Waking up was a hard decision. The choices were always the same: nightmares, or opening her eyes and being in her room. But- she wasn't at home. Nothing and no one in her housebeeped. And her back, chest, and arms felt like- someone had fought her with the benefit of bladed brass knuckles. She'd heard of the weapons before, but really wasn't in the mood for a discussion of what they would be termed.

She forced her eyes to open. She had time to see a glimpse of the Batcave before they snapped back shut, a reflex to the bright light. _Again. _She saw a nervous Kori standing at her side and staring the stairway before Rachel's eyes squeezed themselves shut. _Okay- now, move your hand. The left one. _A weak motion made a clunky monitor fall off of her finger. _Well at the least the beeping st- became a continuous whine._

Kori reacted faster than Rachel thought possible. "Rachel! You're awake!" Kori pressed a few buttons on the monitor. After extracting a sound most aptly described as a moose with aspirations to opera from the device, Kori managed to shut off the monitor's persistent bleat.

"Where are the others?" Rachel asked groggily. Her eyes now opened and closed on command, and Kori had been kind enough to dim the fluorescent lighting. A few more experimental twitches had her left hand functioning with the approximate motor skills of a toddler in the midst of a tantrum.

"They're finding Gar."

"Why? Did something happen?" Rachel began to work on regaining control of her right arm, remembering the necessary muscles much faster.

"No, but Robin has hypothesized that he hurt you."

Rachel sat upright, ignoring her body's protests and Kori's subtle help to avoid an injured teenager falling off the hospital cot. "Give me your communicator." That was too abrupt, even coming from her. "Please, Kori. I have to talk to them." She took the offered communicator awkwardly. Kori held the button, to make sure the Titans would hear.

"Titans, Raven in," she said to people she couldn't see.

"Rachel?" Victor switched his communicator so he could talk, just as Richard took a cell phone call from Bruce. All thoughts of code names slipped his mind; Rachel was okay.

"Stop the Salem witch trials. Now. Beast Boy did not attack me."

Bruce's voice rang through Richard'sphone. "Gar is innocent. I have the guy with the brass knuckles, only one set of its kind sold. It's-"

Rachel regained balance, leaning against the wall. "It was-"

Gar ran straight at Victor and Richard, but vaulted between them to tackle someone else. He caught the would-be sneak, and a full-out battle started without any further notice. The chaos was only added to by two other voices.

"Adonis," Bruce read from his slip of paper.

"Adonis." Rachel's voice was flat.

"Adonis!" Victor could only watch as the two fought. Gar didn't have anyone to protect, this time- all energy could go towards the fight. Richard and Victor could protect themselves. The fight didn't last long. Gar was angrier, and Adonis had lost his weapons. The battle didn't bear description, but Victor did manage to pull his friend away before any bones were broken. At least, he hadn't heard anything to suggest broken bones.

"Chief, we have a villain under wraps. He can more than likely be held for several additional charges." Richard radioed in, and was waiting when the police cruiser pulled in.

**.Diagnosis.  
**Garfield had collapsed after the fight, but insisted on walking to the car. Vic humored him, giving Kori a quick call. When they reached Bruce's, she bullied Gar into accepting her help down the stairs. Kori rarely pressured people, but was effective when she felt she had to do so. Rachel was awake and sitting carefully in a chair with a very padded back, and wasn't alone. As promised, Dr. Pamela Isley had brought a psychiatrist.

Pamela did a quick check of Gar's injuries. "Cuts- just dress them. Your stitches weren't cut, luckily. You also have less explaining to do. I'll talk to your teachers and counselors."

"It- it really is Friday." Gar couldn't remember the past week, except for a few fragments that didn't seem to make sense.

"Saturday, now," Pamela's friend said gently. "But- you're not crazy. At least, you're only as batty as the company you keep." She grinned, and her face could have been any twelve-year-old's. "I'm Dr. Harleen Quinzel, by the way. I'm just the shrink. Pam has the scientific gobbledygook."

"Gar, I do need to ask you a few questions," Pam said, just as Bruce and Richard joined the group. "I don't care what the implication of the answer is, but I need to know." She glanced at her clipboard. "You are not on narcotics or steroids of any kind?"

"Well, I am on one kind of steroid, but it's bio-friendly and was prescribed by a doctor to keep red blood cell levels high. It's to supplement other treatments- nothing muscle-building."

She paused, making a note, but moved on. "You have concentrations of narcotics, steroids, and other various illegal substances in your bloodstream that are off the charts of all medical studies. I've only read about this. Basically, the combination is mixed internally through many pills. Otherwise, it would need to be cleaned up by a HAZMAT team. The created serum causes hyper-aggression, and the loss of higher conscious thought. You would be left with base instincts. This was created for armies, and has one purpose- reversion to primal nature. A- beast, if you will."

"Would this be the Mercenary Liquor circling the black market?"

Pamela didn't know why Rachel's question wasn't surprising. "Yes, but much stronger. The police took samples to check, but I bet my Ph.D. that the other fellow had the same drugs. Gar fought it, subconsciously, which meant people he knew would be able to attempt breaking through."

"I almost did," Victor said. "But, when he was tired, or coming back from being unconscious-"

"He would snap out of it, as the higher brain has limited function in such times, and instinctively switches into control after such exertion," Pamela finished. "Garfield, is there any reason you take enough drugs daily to get concentrations this high?"

"Nothing major, just a- condition." Gar would not say anything more.

"Fine. But somebody else needs to know about your condition, preferably someone with medical know-how. That, and you may want to switch pharmacies. I sincerely doubt you had your correct prescription." Pam brandished his spare set of night pills, shaking the container. "These are not what any doctor would order, and are mind-altering drugs that are barred by several acts of legislation."

The discussion had finally reached Harleen's specialty. "I think all high school classes touch on Freud's hypotheses, with the id, ego, and superego." A selection of blank looks greeted her. "Okay, maybe not. Psychology classes often save these for the end of the year. Freud believed there were three parts of the conscious mind, and this is part of his theory on the development of personality. No one fully understands how the brain works, so he had to make a few very good guesses. What the Liquor did was mess around with mental balance, at a rate much faster than the usual shifts that happen when people grow and change. The balance of the three parts of the mind was severely altered."

"The id is instincts, basically. If you're hungry and see food, you eat it. If someone upsets you, you upset them. If a friend is in danger, you protect them. There is no consideration for morals or usual standards. The ego makes considerations for reality. That food belongs to someone else. The other person may have reason to be upset. Look around before leaping in to help someone. The serum upset the balance, and completely took out the superego. The id was foremost, so running on instincts without regard to the feelings of others is common. The ego was present only when the id was losing control, especially when very fatigued. The superego, the conscience, was completely repressed by the drugs. I'll help Pam explain to all teachers that one of your usual prescriptions had an unstudied mental effect, which is true enough. You'll be back to normal, now." The speech was completely serious.

"Basically, we saw the worst side of Garfield." Pam was used to Harleen's lapses into clinical jargon. "Usually, his superego is much more prevalent. The unbalance will settle quickly, as your subconscious settles back in. It's hard to explain, with words or even with pictures."

Harleen grinned. "I'll make sure you stay on track. I'll talk to your parents. Legally, they're fosters, but I've met Shelia before, through hospital work. She's full maternal instinct, ever since- well, I won't go into it just yet. It's her story." She was being restrained, compared to her usual self, but this was a time to be serious, however boring it was.

Pamela had one last thing to add. "I'd like to speak to Gar alone, unless he has no objections to everyone knowing about a last effect."

"They can stay." They might have to know, and he doubted he would want to repeat it. Besides, they had the right to know, if he was going to keep the other half a secret.

"The Liquor-" Pam made sure that Gar had no regrets before continuing- "it won't completely lose its influence, after five days of that dosage. It's a thought process. If you abandon control, the primal nature could revert. People could talk you down from full bestial nature, or you might just be irritable. The effect is never the same. I can give you the only known antidote- it's not completely FDA approved, but the Liquor is illegal." She withdrew a syringe from a pocket, filled with a clear liquid.

"That would get rid of at least part of it?"

"Cases vary. Some have no sign of the primal nature, and for some the antidote has no effect." It was his choice.

"No harm in trying, right?" He held out his arm.

Pamela was a little slower with hypodermic needles than Rachel. She worked with people in hospitals that had odd diseases most doctors had never heard of, but would always prefer plants.

"Would you like me to drive you home?" she asked, syringe gone. "Harleen and I can explain everything to your foster parents, and we'll help you make excuses to teachers."

"You'd do that?"

Pam smiled. "Yes. Just don't expect me to not go hard on you in class. Good night," she said to the other Titans and Bruce. "Rachel, get some sleep. That'll start off your healing process." The return to blunt statements was expected. Dr. Isley couldn't afford to have her students think of her as too caring, after all. waited to be sure he wouldn't hear, until the last remnant of their car faded away.

"Richard, you went far over the board. Such accusations will only pull the team apart." Kori was not pleased with the team's leader.

"I agree. Next time, we will find all possibilities." Victor didn't judge anyone too harshly. Someone had to think of the negatives. Victor just wished that those thoughts had more positive possibilities to balance them out.

"Someone needs to find out how this happened." Bruce wouldn't tolerate a secret like that. "I don't need to know, but someone on this team fit to judge that type of thing will need to talk to him."

"There's only one person on this team who could get him to open up, I think." Victor had to approach this topic delicately. He doubted it would be taken well.

"Could you do it, Victor?" Bruce asked. As long as he didn't have to do it- or Richard. His nephew had inherited his social graces, and Richard and Gar probably were not on the best of terms. It would be far better to just let Victor take care of matters. Victor's mother was a medical researcher. Or Kori, perhaps- she was far smarter than her language patterns originally suggested.

"Not me. He wouldn't want to say that kind of stuff to me, or any guy. That's just not how guys talk to each other." Victor was making a point. No one seemed to get it.

"I do not believe he would tell me. We are friends, of course, but our conversations usually are about lighter matters. Besides, he has never pried into my past, and-"

"No offense meant, Kori, but I thought Rachel should do it." Victor was sure he had made the right decision. Now, he just had to convince Rachel.

Rachel only blinked. "Where did this idea come from?"

"He respects the fact that lying to you is dangerous. He did invite you to his house first. And- if he wants to keep this a secret, you could keep it and still tell the rest of us whether he's fit for active duty as part-time hero through the medical experience you keep showing." He thought his reasoning was solid; now, he would find out if she did.

"I don't like lies, he was either being oddly polite or trying to prove he had a friend of some sort, and I don't do touchy-feely stuff."

"But would you, Rachel? He'll need to talk to you. You're the only person to know what he did- or have the best idea." Victor was in charge of persuasion- Richard, Bruce, and Kori wouldn't interrupt.

"So, I'm an intimidating female that was the victim of the attack, and this makes me the obvious best choice?"

"You know I didn't mean it like that, Rachel."

"Yes, I do know. And I'll do it."


	13. Carousel

_Here it is- your last-minute binge of (semi-serious) fluff before we move into even more drama. BB-Rae fans, this is your last moment for a while. Enjoy it while you can. Kori will get more focus in the coming chapters, to answer a review, and I will try to make sure everyone gets time for the focus. For this chapter, it works best to just let natural chemistry and the setting work without too many distractions. Dialogue loosely based on an exercise in writing with (someone's guessed by now) dr.evil99. (Someone's probably curious enough to go look at his profile by now.) _

_Anyway, here it is- the transposed scene from the episode, twisted around to fit into my universe. That sounds nice- Calliope's Universe, where no one's ever sure exactly what will happen next (except me, naturally- most of the time). As for the contest- it isn't over. Comic book characters (excluding the Titans and Batman, who everyone should know) have and will continue to make appearances, explained or not. Have fun finding them- bragging rights to any who do.

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**Chapter 13: Carousel

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**.Playground, Revisited.  
**Rachel knew where she would have to go. She wasn't gong to confront him at his home, or where another Titan could watch or hear. She was the medic, therapist, and reporter apparent, and she was holding clinic hours in a playground. She had guessed right, at least- when she slipped through the side gate edged in dark green, he was already there.

He didn't see her. He was seated on a swing, staring at a rusty circle of metal that had been brightly colored, years ago. Now, the carousel once powered by laughing children or the parents beguiled into making the dizzying contraption spin ever faster wouldn't spin with any amount of force.

She knew where the conversation would have to be directed. She just had no idea how to start such a talk. She was not social. She usually went out of her way to avoid such a dialogue, instead of bringing herself to such a chat.

She didn't know how long she stood there in the bright sunlight, with only a few clouds to mar the overhead sun. It was a mockery of the perfect day from years ago, and the only relief from the September heat was the thin breeze that drifted through tall, thick hedges that meant the children couldn't see whatever carnage might lurk behind the back fence. The lush hedges had only a few leavesthat had turned mottled yellow and driftedinto the playground, a reminder that September was ending- the next day marked the last of the month.

He saw her reflection on the dented but shining aluminum plane of the slide. The ladder that led to the bright slide was dilapidated with rust. Any child trying to reach the slide would fall, and probably need a tetanus shot for good measure. The distortion of her face was warped, pits in the unsullied gleam of the worn surface giving her face a look that wasn't completely human. It was easy to tell who she was, even through such a warped image. No one else would have come, especially here, and purple hair was unmistakable.

She had yet to announce her presence. He wouldn't make this any easier. Dr. Pamela (that was the least formal he could get, with someone that formidable) had said that his friends would wonder why he was on so many prescriptions. Rachel wasn't the type to volunteer, so that meant she probably didn't want to be talking with the weakest fighter on the team.

She took the swing next to him. There was no sign that she had been attacked on that swing, as the blood was already gone. The red-eye shift for custodial services had, as expected, removed all traces with a fresh layer of gravel. The only hint was a slash through the clear plastic coating on the old chains. She asked a question before running through what she would say at least twice, forgetting her usual methodology in an attempt to finish and start the conversation as quickly as possible. "Do you remember?"

It was a simple question. All it required was a yes or no answer, maybe "just fragments" if he wanted to be more accurate. He didn't understand his answer, the simple response to a simple question. This was more important. "I don't remember anything from Monday to Friday evening, mostly. I don't remember making people mad, or being aggressive, or anything else I may have done. It was like a haze, really. The best description is someone- putting really thick goggles over your eyes, nearly opaque. I remember a few scattered words and images, but mostly old memories surfacing and just- staying, like some kind of B horror movie soundtrack."

She hadn't expected that much detail. "What do you remember?" She was puzzled to find that she actually wanted to know. Curiosity, besides the kind that a book could cure such a feeling in its unoffending pages, wasn't a common feeling. _It's about me. Of course I want to know,_ she scolded herself. This wasn't just personal; this was necessary.

"I remember- you screaming, and then fighting Adonis. Names didn't matter- I just knew you needed help, and he needed to go down. Then, there was fighting and I don't remember anything until I woke up in Richard's basement, and then everything skips until after I fought Adonis again. That time, I didn't have to make sure he didn't get a final blow in." He didn't name the implication. He had saved her life.

"I guess you wouldn't remember my call, through the communicators. When I recovered enough to gain consciousness, I told them it wasn't you. When I was fighting Adonis," she continued, choosing her words as carefully as she could, "I knew that I was outfought, so I made sure that if anyone was in hearing distance, they'd know I was about to go down. The last thing I remember is you attacking Adonis." She normally had perfect posture. There was no hint that slouching in the usual way of teenagers would be painful. Without a back to her seat, she was much more comfortable.

"So, the team sent you?" He knew that she wouldn't wish to dwell on the episode.

"Yes. You had a nearly unbelievable level of drugs in your system. I would have to assume that you have some type of serious medical condition. Victor felt that you wouldn't open up to a guy, Kori didn't want to pry, and everyone agreed Richard wasn't a choice at the moment. That left me." She sounded just as happy as she looked. She looked like she would rather be dressed in bright pink.

"I have treatment, unless someone gives me the wrong medications in the pharmacy. Dr. Isley tweaked a few connections, so everything is delivered to the hospital. Shelia picks it up, runs a quick check, and brings it home. This won't happen again." He didn't want to ever lose control like that a second time. He couldn't remember any detail of the week at home, and Shelia and Harry didn't bring it up. Shelia had known something unusual was happening, and was more than happy to let the matter rest.

"The team still wants to know what happened. Someone needs to know, and I was the lucky person volunteered. I know enough about medical nonsense to tell if this will affect your performance on the team." She kept her manner entirely clinical. She wasn't doing this for some kind of friendship. This was for the team, and the team was the best way to escape everything at home for a few hours every day.

"What if it might affect my performance?" he challenged.

"Can we just address that when we get to that point? I can't give a vague answer that would cover any disease." She waited. He didn't respond, or bother to look at her. "If you don't want to tell me, I understand. Someone else on the team can know. Tell Dr. Isley, if you want to. Victor's mom was into medical research, Kori might be able to judge, Richard could go obsess some more, and Bruce might get over being uncomfortable. So, you don't have to tell me." He was still lost in thought. _I tried. _There was a nice consolation prize to his silence, at least. She could show Victor and Kori that she didn't have some odd connection with Garfield.

At least five minutes had passed, according to a few surreptitious glances at her watch. She stood up, supporting the motion with the chains of the swing. She looked at him one last time- he was still staring at the carousel. She found her footing and was about to walk away, planning the motion to avoid any embarrassing stumbling through the gravel.

"Cancer," he said finally, after she had taken half of a first step.

She sat down more abruptly than she meant to, hiding a wince at the sudden motion. She definitely could have gone with the maximum recommendation of ibuprofen. "How long?" she asked, after taking a few seconds to fully contemplate the fragment of a sentence. No- that was a sentence. It was a complete thought, no matter what grammar books may say.

"I was diagnosed when I was four. That's why I'm a year ahead, school-wise. The doctors were convinced I was a goner, so I started first grade to give my folks a few happy memories, school pictures and a report card if I made it ten weeks. The other parents were mad as hornets, when they found out. They kept saying I'd traumatize their children, when I finally kicked the bucket. Of course, they were a little more polite in their wording." It was- nice, being able to talk out his past to someone who didn't already know, and didn't skip straight to pity. He hadn't mentioned most details in years.

"I would assume it was declared terminal at the time, then." She didn't know what the usual response to this sort of thing. The usual response was an apology, but that wasn't right. She hadn't done it. It was most always no one's fault, when this sort of thing happened. She could picture Kori being nice, saying the perfect thing and somehow making the conversation a meaningful sharing of pasts. Rachel had nothing further to say.

His smile was one of the most complex emotions she had ever witnessed first-hand, bitter and with enough cynicism that she could begin to understand it. "I keep changing doctors, and not one has any idea why I'm not already dead." That was more than what he really needed to say, for her to tell the team that he would be fine. He wanted to say more, though. Finding a listener who wouldn't give a recitation of platitudes was as rare as a four-year-old surviving terminal liver cancer. "My parents were gone when I was five. That was an odd funeral. My extended family, which consisted of a stray great-aunt who spent almost all her time taking care of a bedridden husband, a cousin with his family of a wife and a daughter a little younger than me, and a social worker, was there. The social worker was new, and looked very uncomfortable. Everyone else there had come to pay respects for a pair of scientists who died in the field."

She could only remember one funeral, with the same level of disjointed awareness that mixed with all memories before she was little. Her mother had brought her, and all Rachel still remembered was where the gravestone was. That gravestone was the only place Rachel had seen her mother ever lose control, yelling at someone who wouldn't respond. For all other deaths she had indirectly witnessed, there was no funeral. She had nothing to add to the conversation- no, there was something. "Did your cousin take you in, then?"

"No, same deal- he didn't want his daughter to break up when I passed away, as I remember his wording. She was- six, at the time. I haven't heard from them in years. I sent a Christmas card, a while back, but it was returned. I don't have a forwarding address for them, and I'd be hard to track. I've done the foster parent shuffle, mostly because I'm a pretty expensive kid."

His approach didn't make the conversation awkward. She didn't know if the talk could accurately be called a conversation, when he was doing more of the talking. "Shelia and Harry seem- nice." She was unsure about the compliment.

"They're the best. I'm technically a ward of the state. Shelia told me flat-out that she wishes she could adopt me legally, but that would mean that I'd lose my state-covered medical insurance. Even that doesn't cover some of the drugs, and a few experimental treatments. They haven't said it, but I know they've been covering a few extra expenses with savings that were supposed to go for something else." He wasn't anyway near self-pity. It was enough, that they would adopt him if it made sense. Harry had promised the instant that Gar was on his own at eighteen, cut loose from the state, they'd adopt him and appease bureaucracy by saying he'd be in charge of their medical expenses.

Garfield had outlined his past, which she didn't need but found interesting. She needed to steer this odd little talk back in the proper direction. "You know, with that much drama in your past, you've come out an eighth as annoying as you deserve to be."

"Was that a compliment? From Rachel Roth?" He suspected the look she gave him would melt all plastic off the swings and freeze mercury in the same instant.

"Look. If you want someone nice, you go to Kori. You want someone who can assure the team you aren't in imminent danger from a stray punch, who can also keep a secret until you feel like divulging it, you can talk to me." This wasn't about her. This was about being able to tell the team their friend would be fine.

"I get it. I wouldn't want to tell them. I don't want pity. I just want people to move on, and figure out there's more to a person than being that guy, the one with cancer either avoided or talked to in the politically correct fashion."

"I won't give you pity. That's the last thing you need, the last thing anyone needs. Actually, you're extremely mature about the entire ordeal. You've had this problem for a long time." She had never guessed that the jokester of the Titans had a past like that. Even with everything else- she was almost jealous, having someone like Shelia or Harry to tell him that everything would work out.

"At this point, I'm used to it. I don't bring it up, outside the hospital. Just about all the nurses there know me- I'm usually the guy they find to talk to the newly diagnosed people, when they're taking it badly. Younger kids find me less scary than the serious doctors, and older folks have the assurance that it isn't always bad. Besides, cracking jokes usually unsettles people enough that they have time to really think about everything and begin to accept it."

"There's one excuse for your humor. What kind of cancer, exactly?" He was deviating from necessary information with informative but useless side stories. She would prefer to stick to facts and move on.

"Hepatocellular carcinoma," he said, syllables falling from memory. "Liver cancer. Inoperable, not that people haven't tried. Surgeons don't like leaving any stone unturned, especially when it's a kid. Medication's the only thing keeping me in remission, and I have enough pills that it was easier to learn to take all of them at once. That's a talent to show off in hospitals, or one of the support groups that pop up occasionally. I've had the time to develop a killer introduction speech, not that 'Hi, my name is Garfield' needs much added to it."

"You mentioned experimental treatments. Was there anything beyond fancy bloodwork? I've read about most treatments that keep patients alive for more than three years, and your surviving this long means you're exceptionally lucky if you were that bad at four." She skipped over the humorous aspects of his speech, finding all relevant details

"I've had a few- Issels' was the best, and the reason a few fosters had to pass me along and declare chapter eleven. Doctors keep telling me that it's amazing I'm alive. The interns are the worst- they want to make a research project out of whatever it is that keeps me alive."

"Do you still have chemotherapy?"

"Once in a while," he said, after a little mental reckoning. Not all visits to the hospital were chemo, and he never had an exact interval. "I have a low radiation and dosage, so my hair hasn't fallen out this year." Every time he had accelerated chemo to fight a new relapse, his hair came in differently. It was always the same shade of dark brown, currently close to losing the slight curl that had always been cooed over by nurses, very damaging to an eight-year-old's ego. For a sixteen-year-old, it wasn't all bad when the younger nurses noticed, but the grandmotherly types were a bit much. "Depending on the probability of a relapse, that could change soon, but it's been a month since the last dose."

"If you can tell me that you'll take at least eight hours after each round of chemo to rest up, I can tell the Titans you have a clean bill of health." He had faced enough brushes with death to understand what he was in for with the team.

"Eight hours? C'mon, Rachel . . ."

"Would you rather have the recommended twenty-four? I'm cutting you a break because I think you can handle it."

"I know, I know." He kicked at the pebbled ground, making his unsteady seat sway gently. He never thought he'd have one of the most serious conversations of his life sitting on a faded blue rectangle of plastic. "I just don't like being the weakest guy on the team, even if I know I am. Richard's a better fighter, Victor could kick a brick wall over, Kori's way stronger than she looks, and you're you."

She could take time to analyze the comment later. It was probably a compliment, but she was never sure. Social situations weren't her usual pastime. "I'm here to do a medical and mental check-up, not listen to self-pity. If you want to angst, go talk to Richard. He looks like an expert. Kori would probably gently coax you out of such sentiments, and I doubt you'd get this sentimental with Victor. I'm here to make sure you won't die or go through some bout of insanity over the Beast incident."

He was silent for a few moments, processing the speech. "I love the bedside manner. I've heard better from grouchy doctors that technically retired seventeen minutes before the spiel they have to give."

"The group that nominated me to talk to you said I know the most about the primal-mind business. According the guidance counselor, I'm best suited to be a coroner because of my morbid nature and hostile personality, so I don't particularly need a bedside manner."

"That old coot? He said I should be a vet, or work with animals."

"There is nothing about that considered socially abnormal. But- about the Beast incident, as nothing else seems to fit as well. Do you have any further concerns?" She wasn't comfortable with this topic. Friendly conversation wasn't her forte.

"I told you, about everything being red. But- I went after him, voluntarily, after I heard you and saw all the blood. I lost control. Everything was gone, and I didn't remember a thing until he was running away before I hurt him worse. I saw blood, all over my hands, and it was just like yours. But, you know what really scared me?" He directed the question at his ungloved hands, clean in the sunlight.

"No. I was a bit unconscious by then," she said, as dryly as she knew how. She wasn't used to people being emotional, especially when she couldn't shoo them to someone else or shoot them down.

"I- liked it, that I'd hurt him." He couldn't look at her, saying that. He kicked at the gravel with a foot, the uniform gray of the pebbles meaning that everything might be okay. It had been quiet for too long, even though only seconds had passed. He looked up suddenly, catching her eyes. She had been watching him. "Rae, I'm not crazy, am I? Or am I just a bad person?"

He was talking to the wrong girl, in her opinion.In the bright light of the playground, she noticedfor the first time how green his eyes were.. For a few dangerous seconds, she couldn't look away, and remembered how green the grass had been on the last day her mother had laughed. Someone asking her if he was a bad person- this was out of her comfort zone. This wasn't even on her comfort radar. "You're not a bad person. Those drugs- the ones someone replaced your usual meds with. They bring out the worst part of a person. A bad person would be addicted, through some mental process no one understands just yet." Blunt honesty was her policy, but maybe a little reassurance wouldn't hurt him. "The psychologist called you sane, remember?"

"Quinn? I think she's battier than I could ever be." That worry was gone. If he was crazy, Rachel would tell him. She was blunt enough to be that honest.

"Well, then who better to judge? Besides, there's logic behind this. If you consider that you may be crazy, you're more than likely sane. And if you're crazy, there's no hope for the rest of the team, except maybe Kori or Victor. You're pretty level, personality wise." She paused, letting her words sink in. "Level meaning you're very constant. Constantly irritating."

He smiled again, this time drawing close to a smirk. "Thanks, Rachel." He had something else to say. "And, as bad as this has been- I couldn't stand seeing a friend being hurt. And I have to say it- if this was going to happen again, and you were going to get hurt- I'd do it again." He was serious, for once. That wasn't a joke.

She had a typical comment ready to fire, but he just had to ruin it. After those four words, she couldn't say whatever biting sarcastic line had jumped out as what to say. "Thanks." That didn't cover everything- nothing would, but a single word wasn't even close. She was hard to lie to, being an accomplished liar, and knew that he meant it. "So, the night came back to you." She moved on. She couldn't say anything that would explain what she meant. "I saw you attack Adonis, before I blacked out- that was good fighting. If you're still weakest on the team with that kind of speed, it'll be by a narrow margin. That wasn't the Liquor, Gar. That was you. When you're in control, you'll be able to stop when you need to." Maybe he would understand her way of saying thank you, through a seemingly unrelated commentary.

"I was just- I don't know. Richard thought I'd hurt you, when they made it to the playground. And when I found the blood on my hands- I started believing it, for a second. It made no sense- you know I wouldn't do that, right? I mean, I know that you think I'm annoying, and that we don't get along, but I think of you as someone I can trust. You're a friend of mine, Rachel, even if you don't feel the same way."

She decided to ignore his last sentiment. Denying such things only made them flare up. If she ignored the idea, maybe he'd get the message. "I know you wouldn't. Richard didn't, and made a quick decision to try to help a teammate. He needs to work on his social skills, but he is a leader." She knew there was one other part that she could acknowledge. "At least you accept that you annoy me. Many people never get that far."

"Yeah, I know." She didn't look mad, at least. Seated on a most unlikely chair, she was more at ease than usual. He wasn't about to bring that up. "I'm not changing," he told her with a smile, and he imagined that maybe he could be her friend, if not by that title. "I know I'm not the world's greatest fighter, like Richard, or as smart as you are, especially with all your medical know-how, but I'll always do what I can to help."

"I would be that lucky," she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. "And I think Richard's still mad that you saved him from a nasty stab with a switchblade. He'll get over himself. You keep talking about everything but the Beast. If you need to- talk to me. I don't want to be responsible for underlying trauma."

"I- I don't know how to talk about it, but Dr. Quinn said she'd help me out. I've always wanted to be stronger, that I could fight like Richard or Kori, and I could. I wish I could remember that part- flashes keep coming back to me, but not much. There's all that anger that goes with it, thought. I'm scared of it, Rae. I think that beast is still in here."

In a rare move of benevolence, she ignored the familiar nickname, just thisonce. "Everyone has a demon inside, Gar. Some people just have scarier demons than others." She might as well be somewhat encouraging, if only to make sure she didn't fail the talk and have to follow through on her promise of listening. "Having that thing inside you doesn't make you a monster. Knowing when to let it out, when to be angry- that makes you a man."

He smiled at her, happy enough that some of the emotion seemed to transfer to her. "Thanks," he said, almost shyly. "That does make me feel better. I'll try not to annoy you, just for tomorrow. Well, until third period, anyway."

"Biology should be interesting, to say the least. Isley knows about the Titans, and what happened." Rachel couldn't remember makings someone really feel better before, but she felt satisfaction in seeing his smile return. "And besides- without that 'Beast,' I might not be here. So, don't beat yourself up." That was her exit line. She stood, slowly, this time ready to leave. "That's my job," she said as she left the playground, disappearing through an empty gateway bordered in dark green.

"Thanks, Doc." He knew she was gone, but better late than never- she would still hear him. The playground was only a few chirping birds away from silence. He stood a minute later, walking around the carousel. Under the rust, he could see that one of the sections had kept its enamel under a layer of dirt. He scuffed off a few flakes of dirt with a shoe, showing rich purple paint beneath. Some things didn't change- someone really should take a look at the carousel. A little oil and attention would have it working in no time, and the slide just needed a little support in the ladder. It wasn't too late, and there was still a chance to bring this playground back.


	14. Second Impressions

_Thanks again to all reviewers- you make my self-imposed job more fun. Yes, I mean cancer as in the very nasty disease. No, it's not a plot gag. He has a problem to deal with, and friends who can help him out. We're moving away from an emphasis on Garfield and Rachel, as other characters deserve a little limelight. So, no complaints, got it? This is a fairly dark story, according to a multitude of complaints, and it still has an underlying plot. As always, dr.evil99 helped out with plot. Have fun reading. For my public service announcement that has no particular reason for appearing, I will make sure that everyone knows that I do have the permission to deal with matters that are Teen, not K, by the rating of this story. That may not come up for a while, but it will. Can't deal? Don't complain to me._

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* * *

_**Chapter Fourteen: Second Impressions_

* * *

_ **

Rachel waited until everyone was listening. It was Sunday night, and Garfield was waiting to see what she would say. He doubted that she would give away his secret, but he didn't know what she would say. She hadn't given any hints. Rachel hadn't as much as glanced at him since she descended into the basement.

"Gar does have a serious medical issue. It will not be aggravated by our usual hobby, he is taking care of it, and his control of the Beast is as good as people can make it. We reached an agreement about one matter." Rachel was convincing, if nothing else.

"Friend Gar, will you share what this issue is?" Kori asked.

He couldn't think of what to say. She honestly wanted to know. Kori wouldn't judge him for it, or say that he should be taken off the team. Victor would probably understand- his parents were in medical research. Richard would see one more reason to get him off the team. He was saved from the question by a most unlikely source.

"His business," Rachel said firmly. "If he chooses to share on some other day, that's none of my concern. If not, I won't spread his secrets around." She ignored a grateful look as the other Titans backed down. She respected privacy, and wouldn't give a single hint. That didn't mean she was a nice person. Someone on the team had to take care of the role of impersonal bitch, and Kori looked happy to reform Richard of being unsuited for interpersonal relations.

"But, you can vouch the occasional serious fight won't be that bad?" Bruce gave no sign of what he felt, or the likely reaction.

"His condition may affect the severity of the injury, and maybe recovery time, but he will be fine. He is tougher than he looks, which is necessary." The small dig wasn't very hostile, just an expected part of her speech patterns. She had one other announcement. "I won't be fighting for at least four days."

"How sore are you?" Victor asked. She would be sore, and he knew it.

"Bad enough that I know stretching too far would mess up my back," she admitted. "I'll be fine, given the rest. I'm a quick healer, but I need a little time."

That meant she was pretty badly injured, if she would admit that much weakness. "I have an idea." Victor had their attention already; he was best suited to gauge her reaction. He believed her- she wouldn't lie about that. If anything, she would say she was fine until she fell over from exhaustion. "I think I could find out about Slade, if the Titans took a little break- Richard patrols solo a couple nights, maybe bringing Kori for appearance's sake, and it looks like the Titans are fighting amongst themselves."

"What would you be doing?" Richard asked. He didn't know what Victor was getting at, but he was interested.

"I get to Slade the easy way, from inside a gang. Before my parents made enough that we moved here, I was in the nastier part of another town. I could get it, to try figuring a few things out. I want to know why they knew this much. Gar's meds were for a civilian, and Adonis is working for someone bigger to get drugs of that caliber.

Rachel understood his logic. She wanted to make sure he could understand hers. "You understand how dangerous your plan is."

"Yes, but I'll find out what the Slade guy is up to, and maybe get a hint about what Adonis was trying to accomplish."

"Slade fronted Adonis." Bruce's contribution was unexpected. "An old . . . friend told me. Slade was behind the ordeal, for whatever reason."

"A warning. Slade knows who we are." Rachel knew it hadn't been her father. Trigon would have bragged about what he had done, and seemed to want her in one piece. Almost every time he hit her, he had been aiming for her mother. Slade had never acted without Trigon's direct order, but there was always a first time for everything.

"That's even more of a reason for me to go. I'll be fine, and we need to find out just how much Slade knows. I can do this. I'll miss a few days of school, tell my father I'm with an aunt, and rely on the fact that he won't check. He never does, especially if I have Kori answer the phone on the off chance he calls. I can forge a note, for the school." The plan came together as he thought it out, slipping into place.

"It could work. We need to know what he's up to." Rachel hadn't heard mention of the serum from her father, not even for his own bodyguards. "This isn't Trigon's way."

"What would Trigon do?" Richard was rightfully curious. His questions just made her curious. His questions just made her cautious.

"He doesn't toy with people like that. If he had been behind this, I wouldn't be here. There would have been worse to deal with than Adonis. Once the first in the objective failed, someone would have been there to finish the job. Trigon doesn't leave people alive after messing with their minds, unless he has something on them."

"Rachel, you're better at describing the sorry villain than anyone to live through meeting him. They rarely come out sane." Bruce wasn't suspicious. He was impressed, after his many efforts to describe the man.

She stopped, just as effectively as if he had found her father's identity. "My dad- he-" She didn't continue. She didn't have to. Her friends filled in the blanks, coming up with a completely wrong answer.

"Doesn't like to talk about it," Bruce finished, oddly sympathetic. "My brother was never the same, either."

Richard was suddenly completely fixated on the conversation. "How?"

"He was distant, never could bring himself to open up to anyone again. That wasn't even Trigon- the boss just watched that encounter. He- changed."

Richard filed away a rare comment about his father for later, focusing on business. "Does everyone else agree that Victor should do this? It's ultimately his decision, of course." He could never order someone to take such a risk. "Maybe not this week, maybe not this month- but the gangs will go down, no matter what it takes." Richard was sure.

"If Vic says he's up for it, I'll help however I can." Gar couldn't do much for this type of mission, but he might be able to do something.

"I will hope for your safe return." Kori had little to add.

"Say you want to join the Force, if you need a detail- they're a widely known gang, amid the lower circles of lawlessness. Only give one name, and remember there is the occasional good person who happens to do bad things; that doesn't mean they'll take who you really are well. You'll have to come home, and leave the gang behind."

Victor grinned. Only Rachel would make foreboding statements a sign that she really did care. No one else could translate what she meant just yet, even if Gar had the slightest idea that most death threats weren't meant. "Thanks, Rachel- I'm going to miss you. No one else would say it that way."

"I know."

No one else understood. Victor saw through biting sarcasm to whatever other meaning there was. "So, as of early tomorrow, Victor Stone is out of town, and a guy who goes only by Stone will be trying to find out, very casually, about Slade."

"You know, I get the oddest feeling you'll be really good at this," Gar remarked.

A change was moving into place, a face impassive but for a condescending smirk fitting perfectly. He looked completely different, even dressed in the same clothing. Without a friendly smile or his usual casually foreboding look- he could blend in with a gang, easily. "So do I."

**.On Your Mark.  
**Everything was in place. Garfield would drop off a note from Victor's father, a pre-made forgery. Vic told his father that he was visiting an aunt, and made sure his mother's chief research intern knew he and his father were having problems with the phone again that would be fixed within the week. His mother knew that meant nine to ten days. Except to five people, he was gone- Bruce understood the reasoning, and had given a few tips.

A surly adult, twenty by a conservative guess, was strolling casually through a street that would be politely termed a slum. He didn't have to wander long, when he was wearing clothes that whispered money and was obvious not holding a gun.

"Freeze, and maybe we won't hurt you."

He recognized the voice, a cool alto with just a hint of confidence that bordered on arrogance. "Maybe you should worry about being hurt. I've heard tales about some sort of elite fighting squad, but I have to see to believe." The words came easily in a voice he had developed for Stone, a little deeper and much harsher than usual.

"Now listen here, parts-for-brains, we're-"

"Part of the Force, the elite of HIVE, irritating- well, irritating for you at all costs, the lady and your larger companion can pick any or all. For your compatriots, I've heard compliments." He knew that he wouldn't get along with Gizmo. He could take that to his advantage.

"You could turn around," Jinx said speculatively, still ready for anything. "We just may be friends."

He did. As suspected, out of uniform and with a snarl lurking behind his current expression, he wasn't at all recognizable as a hero, or even a high school student. "You must be Jinx. Pink hair is fairly unique, and suits fewer people."

"Flatterer," she accused, almost playfully. "So, you know Gizmo and me. You would also know-"

"Mammoth." Vic could recognize one of few people with a definite size advantage over him.

"So, you do know about us. What about you?"

"I go by Stone. I'm from a fairly gritty place- all guns, no glory. Your setup has a prissy little neighborhood right next door, and whispers of something bigger than a casual shoot-'em-up to defend territory."

"You want in?" She tilted her head to the side, making her pigtailed hair bob crazily, creating a thoroughly distracting image of pink.

"Yeah, I want in."

"You'll need to pass a test." She blinked, and he realized that he hadn't done so for a minute.

"What do you need? Combat? Marksmanship? Psychological?"

"Just one, what we call a Blood test. Come with me." She didn't trust him, but he had potential. Not many people could unflappably talk to a ready gang after the sound of a cocked gun. It was his last chance to back out. He left it behind, falling in step behind her. He would figure out what had happened.

**.Get Set.  
**The three-person gang left him with an oddly intimidating figure. The man was elderly and in a set of robes that would do a judge justice, but looked far from senile or eccentric. All Victor could make out clearly in the purposely dim lighting were two blue eyes with a very sharp awareness of their surroundings. "Stone. Why are you here?" The voice matched the eyes, cold and crisp and never deviating from the point.

"I want in. This is a career move. The last group I was in was going nowhere, and I've heard good things about the Force."

"Where?"

"It was the big word on the street, but I borrowed a few federal files to be sure. I seem to have forgotten to return them, but the government won't notice- computer records are gone without a trace." It was a good lie. He had peeked at a few files Bruce had stored away, files that had nothing to do with accounting.

"You will be on a trial period. I'll place you with a group for tomorrow night, depending on your fighting ability. Jinx will escort you through the base. You have passed the test."

"This was the Blood test?"

"Yes. I am Brother Blood, the head of HIVE Academy. I'm proud to be the first to welcome you to the HIVE, your new family of sorts."

"Any place in particular I'll be staying while in this family?"

"Pragmatism. Good. You will be in Wing Beta, Room- D, I believe. Room D is on the second floor, has a window, and is a solitary room- no bunkmates, a courtesy extended to older students. The dining hall is the next floor down, all rooms have their own bathing facilities, and the day's schedule is posted inside the door. Make your own way into being a part of this Academy; that is the true test."

"I'm sure I'll manage." Stone had to be a little bit arrogant, and a trace condescending. Victor was wary of the elderly man, no matter how old he looked. Stone couldn't care less. It was a part of his act, one he needed to keep flawless.

The door opened behind him, and the renewed light let him find a thin smile on a face gaunt with age. "Perhaps you will, Stone."

**.Go.  
**Jinx showed him the basic rooms without accompaniment by the rest of her small team, giving sidelong glances the entire way. There was nothing suggestive about her constant vigilance. She was sizing him up, trying to figure out if he was a threat to the place she called home. Paranoid people were only crazy until proven right, after all. She said nothing except what was necessary, as he had yet to show intentions to be an ally or enemy. Friendship was rare among the competitive world of the HIVE.

The morning was the first challenge, a 6:30 A.M. breakfast in a vast cafeteria similar enough to Forston High's version to be disorienting. He accepted breakfast on an off-color Styrofoam tray, looking over the contents: rubbery scrambled eggs that could use a few more minutes of heat, a strip of bacon that could have been through a nuclear war judging by patterns of burns, and sausage patties floating in congealed fat. He was imagining Gar's reaction as he found a seat in the usual area, minus four friends and their familiar table.

A throat cleared behind him, more threatening than a fighting pit bull's growl. "That's our place."

That had to be Mammoth, even if he'd never heard the taciturn man speak before. "Eight seats less mine- there's plenty of room for three. Or, if you prefer to remain a solitary trio, there is a vacant table three feet to my right." He wouldn't give in easily. This was a small test, that would show how easily he could be bullied around.

"You could move now, short-circuit, and then we won't hurt you."

"Look. Kid. Your gadgets are nice, but I'm not." Without turning around fully, he pulled at a likely exposed wire, watching as rows of pin-prick lights faded into darkness. "You're the one with a few faulty circuits. You should take a look at that." He was ready for Mammoth's reaction. Stone slid a seat to his right, watching as a hefty fist dented a thick polymer table- but not his moved breakfast.

"Thank you, Mammoth- I've now seen brute strength and brute annoyance. Last and never least, the incomparable Jinx. I don't think we need to fight. In the practice rooms, perhaps, but not in such surroundings." Stone's cocky grin was perfectly in character for the fictional creation that could pull this off. Once he wasn't in such a public setting, he could tone down the approach.

She frowned. "Let's make it a date, one of the un-romantic sort. Ten o'clock, after a few rounds of warm-up in Combat Review." She led her protesting team away, promising that the problem would be resolved later. He had passed his first test.

He was ready at precisely ten o' clock. The training gym was a primitive high school gym with a few added components. The entire HIVE academy was an adapted high school. In all paperwork, the school had been demolished eight years ago. Most classrooms on the first floor had been adapted to curriculum no high school would teach, the auditorium was for meetings and announcements, two upper floors housed students, and the gym had more workout equipment than he had seen in his life. There wasn't too much variety, but there were rows and rows of treadmills and weight trainers. The upper floors, as he found out, had few single rooms, all reserved for promising students. Victor was lucky- keeping a secret identity would be hard, while sharing a room.

"Stone. Ready?" Jinx asked.

"Born ready. What's our challenge?"

She grinned. "He either found something in you he wants to expose, or thinks you're something special." She gestured to the empty gym. "The whole Force, and Force in Training, is ready for an exhibition match, three on one, on the stage. You get to have a quick tour of the scene, to make the fight a little more fair. Last unconscious wins."

He had just one set of questions, just to clarify rules. "So, no weapons, no deadly force, no allies for me, and I get base familiarity with what will be a new setting for you guys."

"Yes." She went for the honest approach. He seemed decent. "Fight your best. We will be. Brother Blood will be watching, along with any guests, from the projector booth straight back through the aisle." She could almost like the new guy, who had yet to make an awkward pass at her, sly compliments aside and more than acceptable. Relationships weren't much use; she never did fall for the bad guy, and that made all the difference.

He used his five minute grace period, listening to announcements about himself given to a waiting audience in the auditorium. He prowled about the stage, a convincing full workout-gym, complete with worn workout equipment. He catalogued items as a full description of a check-up in the Combat Review rang over loudspeakers.

"Today's newcomer is known only as Stone. Twenty and new to the HIVE, he plans to get somewhere, in his words, perhaps as a part of the Force's elite." The announcer was a pimple-faced teenage boy, who might be going into his freshman year of high school. Instead, he was one of the aids who helped Brother Blood carry out administrative work, as his combat skills weren't completely up to par. The young announcer let the buzz die down, reveling in the attention fixed on him. It was only because he had the answers on his mimeographed announcements sheet, but someone was looking at him. Several hundred people were, if only for the moment.

Stone flashed a thumbs up at the announcer's softer query, away from the mike. He was ready. The announcer brought the microphone back to just below his mouth, finding just the right volume. "And now, Stone's first fight; alone, working out, he is confronted by members of one of Forston's many other gangs." The announcer paused, waiting for the audience to call out names of rival gangs. They didn't disappoint; he had to cut the multitude's litany short. "Whenever you're ready, Elite team."

Jinx barely waited for the announcement to be completed before yelling out the attack plan. "Attack Pattern Alpha!" She paused for a split second, as always, to let Mammoth and Gizmo begin the attack. She would vault into the scene to finish a distracted opponent the instant she had an opening. Mammoth was the first, closely followed by Gizmo a little to the right- just like they had practiced.

Victor kicked a bar with his left foot, tipping a rack of barbells into their path. Mammoth barreled through, where Stone waited with a piece of pipe taken from the barbell rack. With the use of a convenient metal tool and a quick swing with force that was nowhere near deadly, Mammoth went down quickly.

Gizmo was next. Stone kept Jinx busy with a shattered vending machine of gumballs between him and the trio's leader. Gizmo had repaired his gear, tucking away the loose wire. Stone simply jerked the battery away from a compact backpack, then rendering a short opponent unconscious with a kick. Without technological strength, Gizmo wasn't much of a fighter. Victor had one opponent left, and she would be the trickiest.

She feigned difficulty; he believed her for a crucial second. She cartwheeled through shattered glass, avoiding sharp fragments through both luck and skill. She was attacking before he could recover from admiring the gutsy move.

They were evenly matched, in a fair fight. Jinx quickly bored of Queensbury Rules, sweeping his left leg out from under him during one of his kicks- his balance when moving his left foot was horrible. He went down, rolling to a clear area of the floor after an impact made uncomfortable by a stray barbell.

She moved quickly, as always, trying to find a lock to end the fight. He let her grab hold of a wrist, then "strained" against her grip until the audience roared in approval of their pink-haired comrade. It was time to make his moved.

He pinned her, rolling and getting a truly tight grip on her wrists, crossing her arms behind her back with a quick move learned from a hologym. He used a weight-lifter machine with a padded pole as his other support. She was trapped, and her attempts to kick weren't getting her anywhere.

"Forfeit?" he asked. "Then, we can just assume I knocked you out, and I can spare myself the guilt of giving someone such as yourself a disfiguring bruise."

"Because I'm a girl?" she spat.

"No. Because you're not a complete clunch-head, to quote your irritable friend, and neither am I. Besides, I want to be on your team, not some favored student."

"How would you know that?" she hissed, aware that the entire school was watching a conversation they couldn't hear.

"Blood obviously likes you. You're in the Elite group, deserve to be so by all signs, and he respects your opinions."

"So, friends?" She might as well make the offer. He was actually an okay guy.

"Friends," he agreed.

"Well, if we're so friendly- you could get off me. This is a bit uncomfortable, as nice as this conversation is."

"Of course." He sidestepped a judo move she had attempted and he had anticipated. She was too fast to react to, so he had to guess ahead of time.

"Stone, join Jinx's squad," Brother Blood announced. His voice carried over scores of HIVE students determined to curry favor by being the most enthusiastic in cheering a new teammate.

He was ready for a trick, but their handshake was friendly. Walking to the stairs, she flipped him onto his back and pinned him solidly, in view of the audience. This was the Jinx they knew, HIVE's resident martial artist.

"Didn't know you were into that," he joked.

"You never do," she agreed. "But I have a reputation to uphold, and no one's changing that." She helped him stand, genuine smile on her face as she granted the crowd a quick wave. She was something of a celebrity, the only one classified as Elite that never was mean about helping some smaller child learn a new move or complete tough homework. "Come on, Stone. Let me give you a real tour."

"You gave me a fake one before?" He pretended offense for a split second, letting Stone's bluster fade into a variation of himself. "No harm done- second impressions are usually better, anyway."

She smiled. "I'll say. Lunch time- come with me. I know where the cafeteria workers keep real chow, teacher-worthy. Up for raiding a fridge?"

Stone gave a devil-may-care grin. "With you, milady? That's just as good as having a strong gang behind you." It was the right thing to say, judging by the way her eyes lit up at a shared metaphor. Why did he feel so wrong saying it?


	15. Cheating

_Don't worry. Kori will have a larger part in this story in coming chapters. For now, she just hasn't had much to do with my plot circling in the background. Victor, at the moment, is trying to fit in, which accounts for any fluctuations in character. No worries, I think I can say without ruining anything that no one will be pregnant for a while. Background information on the newly introduced character (she will be in four paragraphs, anyway) was provided by the remarkable dr.evil99. I am trying to keep the five characters in balance, but Kori's big scene may not show up for a while- don't worry. It will come, and hopefully will be worth the wait. Until then, more Deception.

* * *

_

**Chapter Fifteen: Cheating

* * *

**

With Jinx at his side, Victor found himself truly raiding a fridge. The clandestine mission involved a case of soda in aluminum cans, several fully-made sandwiches in neat wrappings of cellophane, and various packages Jinx chose from the industrial-size refrigerator. They were in and out of the cafeteria store room within a minute, courtesy of a blank credit card from a mail promotion, and climbing a rickety stairway at the side of the school labeled Emergency Use Only.

"No one else comes this way, and the security camera is tragically stuck in a loop of empty space. The main stairwells are in better repair, but these are solid enough. Come with me, and no staring." The last phrase was a quiet order, with a tone that proved she was used to being listened to.

He was about to ask what not to stare at when she disappeared into a room with an uneven red cross in faded and chipped paint marking the door. He followed, carrying the case of cans and two opaque plastic bags with scrawled shorthand marking the contents.

He was in a medical wing, one with two beds. One was occupied by a half-asleep girl. Seeing her visitors, she forced herself to a seated position and granted Jinx and whatever tagalong she had brought a smile. She could trust the other person. Jinx had brought him on a food run, so he had to be someone good.

"Lunch time!" Jinx announced cheerfully. It was actually the free time before lunch, but Victor knew that wasn't important. "So, for the lovely Miss Mia Dearden's repast, we have- roast beef sandwich on wheat with cheddar, lettuce, and fake mayo, your favorite artificially colored soda- it's orange, don't give me that look- and the always healthy and gourmet Dirt in a Cup- chocolate pudding, Oreo crumbles, and _two _gummy worms."

Victor found named items from what he carried while Jinx presented a sandwich with a flourish and a smile. Mia returned the smile. "Thanks, Jinx. 'Hospital' wing food is just cold cafeteria fodder. But- I'm transferring out, to a real hospital and some new type of set-up. HIVE won't pay my way, but they did find me a new place. The nurse is dragging her heels, but I'll be gone in a few weeks."

"So, you're out of the gang?" Jinx asked.

Mia shrugged. "I never really fit in, Jinx. You know that. Archery? Easy as breathing. Target practice? I know I was good, even the best, before I ended up worse off medically, but- you know I can't hit people, Jinx. I freeze up, every time."

"Some people just don't have the distance from life." Jinx knew not all people could fight from the wrong side of usual standards. "You had a childhood as bad as anyone else in here, but you're good-girl material, Mia." Jinx gave Stone a quick glance before deciding; he wouldn't tell. "If you want to keep the action, try the other side. The good guys wouldn't mind helping you out, and you could get all the help you need."

"I wouldn't want to fight you guys," Mia protested. "What are my options? Bats-in-the-Belfry works _alone, _after Batgirl, and the Titans are the new kids on the block."

Jinx shrugged. "We beat the Titans the first time we found them. The second- they were ready, five-on-three, and their green guy was just- crazy. You don't have to try getting in past the uptight leader. Form your own team, if that's the only way. Just- don't let yourself get too far away from the business. You love shooting, when it won't cause anything too drastic to happen."

Stone watched the exchange, gathering information. Bruce had mentioned that the Titans couldn't cover the main pair of town and the east sector. Bruce had not mentioned a sidekick at all. Jinx wasn't all that bad. She wasn't a hardened criminal. She was just, by all definitions, not a hero.

"Stone, don't tell a soul, or I'll-"

"No worries. This is completely confidential." He didn't ask why Mia was sick enough that she was in the hospital, either, even if he would like to know. She didn't look injured.

"Good. Now, let's deliver a few more things and eat- I'll show you where," Jinx promised. They visited a few small children and injured HIVE members on the floor before returning to the Emergency stairwell. This time, she led him past the third floor, until they were on the roof.

"No one else comes up here. Mammoth stays near the gym, Gizmo hates heights- not that you heard that from me. The other students are nervous about the stairs." Jinx spun, encompassing the entire area in a broad gesture. "Brother Blood said this space is mine. He makes a few concessions, for me." She didn't say that the concessions were because she was the best fighter the school had. That would be too much bragging, and Stone was pretty quick for being that big. He could figure out why she had a little extra slack.

The only furniture was a battered acrylic patio table that may have once had a color and two chairs that had been white only a few weeks ago. The roof's thin coat of debris and ashes housed a collection of hardy wildflowers, what the rich neighborhoods would term weeds. Anchored by gnarled roots on the grungy rooftop, they were beautiful.

She eyed her small garden critically. "The morning glories are best a few minutes after sunrise, but they do brighten up the place- as much as block cement can be cheered up."

The roof offered a complete panorama of a city nearing ruin- down Main, he could see a glimpse of the entrance to Forest Gates. The constructed white gate coated in enamel could be described as "pearly" without any great stretch, enclosing everything that wasn't broken and ready to shatter. This was how she saw the world- he'd never looked at the gate from this height. From here, the spiked tops lined with arched spines didn't look friendly. The gate was foreboding.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Her voice had a self-depreciating tone, bitterly sarcastic- the emotion behind her words made the meaning distinct. "That's the glory of Forston. The people in the fancy community don't care about what it's like, without a paycheck fatter than the bills. They may pretend to care, but the rich stiffs could never understand."

"I was from the nicer side of Chicago." He hated to lie, when she was being so honest, but he could start out with the truth. She could not know too much about Stone. "I couldn't take any of the lies they fed to kids, so I left for a gang. I'm disowned and not welcome to go back, but my parents still have their perfect son." He had brushed reality in a few tangents, but he was still lying.

"I was born in Forston. My mom didn't want a kid, but I was lucky enough to be a pretty baby. Someone took an infant whose mother had been heavy into a few different hallucinogens. When the pink hair started coming in at a few weeks, they knew my mother had been in really nasty stuff. My adoptive parents still tried to raise me into a good little private-school girl. I ran away when I was thirteen. Pink hair doesn't belong in high society, and back then I didn't have the self-confidence to pull it off. I fit in here, and no one cares about me, my looks, or what my mother did." Jinx had found a rare audience. Stone listened, but didn't interrupt or judge.

He had nothing real to return. "Did you ever see them again?"

"Once, they tried to kidnap me back. They hired one thug, which they estimated would be enough for their little girl. I think that guy's still in physical therapy. The gang's like the family in wishy-washy daydreams- not perfect, but close enough that you get defensive."

"This is another thing to keep on the down-low, right?"

She flashed a feral smile. "Better be, Stone. I'd hate to beat you up; you're the first nice guy I've found in this dump." She glanced at her watch and cleaned up after the leisurely meal. "Time for lessons- let's go see who you'll end up with."

**.Class.  
**He was in her Defensive Combat period, a small group of students who could punch hard enough to pass muster. The instructor was as bad as Richard, which was saying something. His offensive technology tutor wasn't bad, if very eccentric, but that class was followed by the hardest class the school had to offer. The teacher was some sort of martial arts genius, and had no mercy for students.

He left one-on-one fighting feeling very ready to collapse. It would be easier than walking. Jinx was waiting for him, with her usual blunt sympathy.

"You're walking on your own power. After a round with her, that's far above average. I'd guess the roof is probably out." She smiled to see the look on his face. "I know. No unnecessary stairs. Come with me. If you play nice, the cafeteria workers will like you."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"If you want ice, band-aids, extra food- it's a part of life. Besides, you'll be less likely to get burned bits. Going into the cafeteria early gives you less time in line, and the time to meet my aunt. Well, she thinks she's my aunt- I'm not sure who my father was, and I know that my mother dated her brother at one time. She loves meeting a friend of mine."

"We are friends, then?" He wouldn't mind at all, and shoved pre-emptive guilt to the back of his mind.

"Friends," she agreed, glad he felt the same way. "Friends are hard to find, so I'm doubly glad someone around here doesn't have an ulterior motive."

If he stopped for a second, he blamed it on stiffness- and felt even worse when Jinx was there to help him. Stone wasn't a bad guy, and that was a fact. There was one problem with the statement. Stone didn't exist- he was just another pseudonym for Victor Stone; soccer captain, good student, and occasional caped crusader.

**.Report.  
**After lights-out, when his neighbors were both snoring loudly enough to shake drywall, Victor brought out his cell phone. The new communicators Bruce was helping out with weren't ready, and he wanted better reception and a much lower chance of being intercepted.

"Titans- Stone in," he said quietly when the ring stop. "In all ways- I'm calling from Stone's personal room."

"Victor, what have you learned?"

"Not much yet, Richard. I can't go ask about their secret plans for Forston right now. I'm the new guy, but I know my way around, met a few people, and found worse food than Forston High offers."

"How are you holding up?"

"Fine," Victor said, surprised to find that it was true. He continued, still as quietly as he could. "This place isn't bad at all. A few people are only here because they have nowhere else to go."

"Have you made a friend within the gang?" Kori asked. Victor could picture her nudging Richard out of the way.

"Yeah- we've met before, not that she knows."

"_She?" _Garfield asked.

"_She _is perfectly nice, if on the wrong side of the law. And no details just yet from her about matters like that- I don't think she knows many."

"Is it what you expected?"

"No. Not at all, Rachel."

"Watch out for Blood. I've heard of him." She was finished.

He heard a knock on his door. "Tomorrow," he promised in an undertone. The phone shut with a quiet clock, ending the conversation. "Who is it?" he asked, speaking to the door.

"Look, pit-face, we need to talk."

Just his luck- Gizmo. "I won't stop you." Victor opened the door and waited. Gizmo was the first to grow bored of the silence.

"You're on my team. I don't like you, but I will work with you." Gizmo was serious. There wasn't a single insult in his very short speech. "This is about the team, not a couple of techno-freaks butting heads."

"Agreed. So, that all you wanted to say?"

"One more thing- about Jinx. Don't mess with her. The last person she could really connect with bailed on her. If you mess with her, Mammoth and I will mess around with your face. We'll have the help of everyone in this building, male or female. Jinx is pretty popular. By the time it's her turn to take a few shots at you, there won't be much left."

"Who ever said anything me messing with Jinx?"

"No one, loose gear, but a blind mouse could see the sparks flying. So, I don't like you, but if you end up as a teammate and friend of a friend, I'll tolerate you."

"No worries." Stone watched as Gizmo walked down the hall, stopping eight doors away. He and Jinx had hit it off, sure. But- a relationship like that was doomed before it started. Stone was fictional. Victor was Cyborg in his spare time, and heroes didn't date gang members in some Romeo-and-Juliet affair. After all, the original hadn't turned out too well. He shut the door, keeping out thoughts of that nonsense. It wouldn't work.

**.Rebuttal.  
**Lunch at Forston High School was business as usual. Kori blithely ate cafeteria food while chattering, Gar listened and contributed over his daily brown-bag tofu, Richard tried to brave the safer menu selections of FHS cuisine, and Rachel ignored conversation until something she found interesting came up. The _Book of Azar _was at home collecting dust. She was reading books Dr. Isley had recommended, and found college medical textbooks just as puzzling as intense meditative philosophy.

Kori noticed first. The cafeteria was a large, long rectangle of a room scattered with both rectangular and octagonal tables, with a raised platform for events by the Citizenship class. Today, her sister was collecting donations for missions in Africa. She had completely forgotten.

Gar was the first one to notice that Kori hadn't finished an earlier story after Richard's interruption, that had led into a side argument. This was usual, and expected. The entire table, usually excepting Rachel, would often start debates with no real provocation, stopping in time for whoever had been talking to continue their tale. "Kori?"

"It's Connie. She's spearheading the Mission drive, and bringing up the time that a hostile group took her." There was more to that story, but she wouldn't bring it up. Kori could be more contrary than Rachel and Richard combined when she put her mind to it, with Gar's evasiveness and Victor's talent for being expressionless. They wouldn't hear that tale until she was ready to tell it.

"We could move outside," Richard suggested. "Seniors can go off-campus for lunch."

"No, but thank you, Richard. I would only hear of it later."

"She's not going to say anything about you onstage." Rachel seemed very sure. "Victor owed me a favor, and was more than happy to help. I heard the witch in the ladies' lavatory last week, and that microphone won't help her out." She brought out a device roughly the size of a credit card. "Richard, would you do the honors?" Rachel had to force out that sentence, as she was currently suffering her first hug from Kori. Every other time, Rachel had managed to duck away, but luck only lasted so long.

Richard picked it up, avoiding a trio of buttons. They were set up like a traffic light; red, yellow, and green. Gar pried Kori away, and Rachel caught her breath to explain. "The red shuts off the microphone, and the green starts it again. The yellow- well, that should be interesting. Victor said that, since he can't be here, this is his way to help a friend."

"So, we have control of the microphone." Richard understood the relatively simple plan. It would be effective- the simplest ones often were.

"Completely." Rachel didn't seem to change her expression, but she looked the tiniest bit smug. "So, if Connie makes the smallest insinuation, Kori can press red or yellow. The green is in case someone runs an equipment check."

"Remind me to not get on your bad side," Richard said, looking over the wiring. "You have to know the codes for the wireless microphone, and the range of frequencies."

That would require an explanation, if she was to get any peace. Or- her favorite variety of explanations. "Just a bit of reconnaissance. I made sure I had to go see the principal yesterday. While he lectured me about the usual not applying myself in gym class, I copied down the codes." That had required more than a little planning, but she couldn't give away all her secrets. That wouldn't be any fun.

Connie's voice rang through the lunchroom before anyone could ask about Rachel's very abridged tale, and Connie was granted silence by almost everyone. Four teenagers at the opposite end of the oblong lunchroom were a marked exception.

Kori heard a familiar lead-in as Connie began to draw people into the speech. This was it. She would rebel. Life wasn't always fair, but it didn't have to fully lack justice. With unspoken encouragement from her friends, she chose a button. She felt in the mood for a bit of experimentation.

The effect was a sound usually not made in polite company, a quiet recording that almost apologetically spoke of digestion troubles in the midst of her impassioned speech. Kori was the first to giggle, but she wasn't alone. Connie looked over the crowd; one in ten was already laughing. She would just have to win them back. "Students of Forston High School, I tell you of my experiences six years-" A louder interruption spread throughout the cafeteria, with many silent people only partially concealing mocking smiles. Connie couldn't charm everyone all the time, and her fondness for rebuking anyone not in authority had earned a few reluctant friends.

"I am sure whoever is responsible for this debacle will-" Connie's lips kept moving, her bright lipstick tracing the motion, but only a tiny fraction of the cafeteria could hear her.

Kori was beaming. "This may very well be the first time in six years I've gotten her to be quiet." No one had any difficulty understanding that statement.

"Silence is beautiful, isn't it?"

"It would be far more beauteous if you could shut up and enjoy it." Rachel interrupted Gar's musings frequently. She returned to her book, nonchalantly perusing an account of a successful heart transplant. Gar, looking over her shoulder at the technique of getting through the rib cage, nearly lost his tofu.

"How do you read that?"

"First, I open the book. After that, I usually begin processing letters and finding the patterns that make sounds and words. Talk to Kori- someone's about to do a microphone check." Rachel went back to an admittedly grisly illustration on methodology of a step in a complex procedure, ignoring the chaos she had been instrumental in creating.

Richard had temporary control of the microphone. Kori wanted to work on not having too much to do with the event, so she wouldn't be lying too badly when her parents tried to determine the reasons behind Connie's humiliation. Richard switched the microphone's power on just as a principal briskly tapped the mike, and then off again when Connie touched it.

After a few minutes of the same repeated occurrences, a replacement microphone was brought out. It was using the same frequency as the other, to connect directly with the cafeteria's speaker system. Gar was in control, at Kori's insistence. She decided everyone should have a turn.

This microphone seemed to work. Connie began into her spiel- and was stopped by a symphony of rude noises. The control was hidden beneath the Titans' table, and was being maneuvered by someone used to Vic's video game moves. This was Gar's line of expertise- pranks with a hint of video console.

"I wonder how friend Victor feels today," Kori said after a few more moments of reveling. "I hope he also is happy."

**.HIVE.  
**Stone was very happy. There was a casual event coming up, a dance of some type, that he had casually invited Jinx to. She had accepted, just as casually. The rumors were already beginning to spread like wildfire in dry wood. Openly hostile students from the day before were cordial, and only a few glared when she was in his vicinity.

His lessons came naturally, he and Gizmo exchanged only a few insults, and after a two-person strength drill, he and Mammoth were on grunting terms. He had consulted Jinx to learn that Mammoth did consider him a friend. It was hard to tell with the taciturn male, but Jinx was certain.

He visited Mia again at lunch, braving the kitchen alone while Jinx went on some other mission. When he and his haul made it to the sick bay, Mia's nightstand (a sterile tray on a wobbling frame) supported a bouquet of wild morning glories entwined with more cultivated additions that he could recognize from the nicest parts of town. In a cheap vase, they looked less like lawn ornaments and more like flowers.

The dance wasn't to be, at least for that night. It was needed to host the wounded of some campaign only Blood himself knew the details of. Instead, Stone invited Jinx for a walk. He knew where to go, and that getting there could prove difficult.

They approached Forest Gates. He had never seen the entranceway from that angle. The usually friendly (if pretentious) construction was huge and overbearing, more than enough to repel intruders by size alone. He slipped around the main gate, through a side gap. She didn't follow.

"I don't belong in there, Stone."

"We're not going anywhere that takes an admission pass. I'll show you. You don't like it, we'll leave. We can't get in trouble for going there- it's public." Getting in trouble would be her last reservation, but he might as well address it just in case.

"I'll take a look." She slid between the elaborate bars, just because she could. She didn't need the side entrance when the front gate was open to a flexible girl. "You wouldn't make this a trap." She said nothing else of the matter, and he didn't ask why she would have such a suspicion.

He found the exact place, just as he's left it three years ago. The old oak tree was a massive sentinel, guarding the small park where paths were scenery and benches décor. The tree had gnarled roots that curled perfectly for hard-ground seat, more comfortable than elaborate benches. He had seen only ten people in the park during his lifetime, the tiny corner of Forest Gates that was public relations meant only to appease the unnamed masses.

"Does anyone else ever come here?" However quietly she spoke, her voice seemed to fill the park. She didn't even see squirrels.

"Not really, except the scattered wanderer. This place is for aesthetic purposes, brochures and the like. This is-" he paused, substituting fiction for reality in two heartbeats, "-the only place in this town I've been able to think. In my old town, I had my garage."

Jinx took a seat beside him, moving gracefully even as she sat on hard-packed dirt. She might have leaned against him, but it was so small that he couldn't tell if he was imagining everything. "You're not half as bad as you try looking, Stone."

He didn't want to hear "Stone" from her. There was no alternative, however much he disliked the idea. He had to find the gangs' plans involving the Titans. Some gang member could not come before his team. Maybe she wasn't a bad person, but she wouldn't be in impending danger if he let a lie rest as truth for a few days. Once he had the information, Stone could disappear, and someone could swear they'd heard he was dead. _No. _He had lied enough. Stone would just be gone, ducking away after class, on the way to lunch, in the darkest part of some early morning- as soon as he knew the plans.

"Stone, you're deep in thought somewhere. What are you thinking about?" She'd never met someone that big so likely to think things through. He was close to Mammoth's size, and Jinx knew for a fact that Mammoth wasn't the sharpest pencil in the standardized testing room.

Maybe he could be almost honest, just to try it out. "Life, and how it ends."

"We could be dead tomorrow. That's just the way of the world, even outside of gangs. That's why I try to enjoy the moment. Don't worry about what will happen." Jinx's philosophy was fairly simple, perhaps, but it kept her sane- well, as sane as she could be, considering circumstances.

"Did you ever wonder about the people who live on Easy Street? Even the people on the main drag- no guns, no gangs, and blood usually only needs a two and three-quarter inch Band-Aid, maybe a little disinfectant. What it would be like, living like that?"

"You going soft on me, Stone?"

"Nah, just thinking."

"You do that a lot." Her words were speculative, not derisive. It was a change, being around someone who wasn't concerned enough with his image that he could have a serious conversation.

"Around you? Yes. You aren't nearly as critical as anyone else in the HIVE."

"You want my opinion, about the citizen-folk?"

"Any opinion of yours, Jinx."

"I could go into one of those houses. I could finish high school on furnished transcripts, go to college for a little, buy a tiny little house with a yard so small it doesn't even deserve a picket fence. I could get some job, somewhere- there isn't much open for a girl who's missed high education, which I won't get. I couldn't afford college classes, and scholarships are out of the question, considering I've missed high school. Clerk, cashier, waitress, secretary- I couldn't live like that. I need excitement, and people around- people like you, Stone. Bad when you need to be, not when you don't."

"Now who's the softie?"

"Maybe I am, but I used to dream of having my little share of the American pie. The whole deal, lock stock and barrel. One husband, three-bedroom house, 2.4 kids, a sedan with miles of errands on the cheap plastic dash, a battered minivan."

"What changed?"

"I have a place in the HIVE. I'm not just a crumb on some giant piece of dreams someone else gets to eat while I watch. I get my own life to live." Not many people in the HIVE understood a metaphor, the biggest disadvantage to her choice.

"You could find a place where the gang wasn't all that big, where the little guy- or gal- has a chance to do something."

"Maybe. But- I'd live in quiet desperation, like some poet said once." She stood with a little help from the tree, offering a hand. "This is who I am- Jinx, leader of HIVE's premier squad."

He had to agree. "Sometimes, odd ideas just won't go away. I don't think I could live as a plain old John Smith civilian." Her statement was natural, but had just nailed the lid of the relationship's coffin closed. They were over, before they even could start.

"Let's head back home, Stone- and thanks for showing me."

He nodded in return. A smile was past him as he let dreams fray at the edges, splintering into daydreams that wouldn't come true. "The pleasure was mine, Jinx. It's only fair, sharing my favorite spot with my favorite person in the HIVE."


	16. Fraud

_Suggestions are always welcome, but past events will not be changed and there is no guarantee I'll use any ideas. The plot is set for the chapters leading into November, and the current date, story-wise, is October 2nd of some undetermined year. (The dates are accurate, because I'm that picky.) I do know that Kori hasn't had the focus she deserves, but I'll try making it up to Starfire fans later. It's hard to give five teenagers equal billing, and the story is divided into periods where one character is the most prominent- right now, that would be Victor. Thank you to all reviewers (to anyone not reviewing and reading this, you obviously have time for a note), and to dr.evil99 (didn't think I'd forget, did you?). The comic-book cameos continue, and I do think there is some other plot behind the latest. I just might not get there for a while- no worries, it exists. Go, read and be merry.

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_**Chapter Sixteen: Fraud

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**

Richard was training by himself. Bruce had designed the gym to get rid of the need for a spotter; Bruce, and Richard, disliked relying on anyone. He was about to start a round when someone he didn't know descended the staircase, letting out a shrill cry.

"Brucie! I hear someone in the gym, and-" The honey-sweet voice was cut off by the source, sparing Richard's ears for a brief respite. Richard felt she deserved his most skeptical glare, and gave it to her. "You're not Bruce."

_I don't think Kori could stand this woman, and the only person Kori dislikes is her dragon of a sister. _"No," he said evenly. She had been looking for Bruce in the basement, which meant she was in on a few secrets of the Wayne household. He could be honest, however reluctantly. "I'm his nephew."

Her lipstick smile settled into a dark line of berry-red. "You're the child he swore didn't know about the basement. This is for me and Bruce- no one's supposed to know."

He disliked her more and more. He was sure that she was a fine person, but he disliked most people on general principal. She was a case of just about all small details that bothered him in adults. She wore more makeup than necessary for five women, looked in a mirror extracted from her purse twice in a row, and gave welcomes about as warm as his own. It was rare to find someone as closed off as he could be, and Richard had found that only in Bruce. "Who are you?"

"Talia al Ghul. Perhaps you've heard of me?" She waved her hand, showcasing an expensive manicure. She wouldn't last, in a fight. The fingernails were soft, not about to inflict any damage. From his quick assessment, they were more likely to snap off before making a scratch.

"Yes."

Her condescending glare softened a few impeccably placed hairs. "Have you, now?"

"You're the daughter of a corrupt mayor. He's known for turning a blind eye to gang activity inside and outside Forest Gates, and denies all requests for a raise in public funding to the Forston police department." He smirked as she sputtered, looking away to watch Bruce walk into the center stage of a conflict. He felt a distinct sense of remorse, overweighed than the thought of better him than me. Self-preservation was the order of the day."

"Bruce, your nephew-" there was a very distasteful cast to the word- "is in the basement, and was about to use your hologym."

Bruce looked from Talia to Richard. "I'd imagine so. He trains as much as I do. My brother was a firm believer in teaching dedication, whatever faults he may have had."

Talia saw a losing argument. "He said my father is corrupt."

Bruce nodded patiently as Talia's arms twined around his waist. He was at least in his Batsuit. With the minimum of odd looks, Selina had enforced the torso. "Ra's is corrupt, Talia. You live on bribes. You have talked to him?"

"Of course, of course- you always push at me."

"Talia, it's important."

"So are we, darling. Let's have dinner, my treat." She changed her wording, considering the most recent conversation points. "Okay, on my father's many friends' treat. It's not like he's a criminal, Bruce."

"Talia, Ra's al Ghul is responsible for as many deaths as there are gangs for letting things happen. He's only not a criminal when he refuses to associate with them." From the tired pattern of his words, this was an old argument.

"He is not. You're just prejudiced. Why won't you give up play-acting at fights? You'll only get hurt, batwing." She removed his mask, finding the hinge in the construction easily, and revealed a Bruce Wayne dangerously close to blushing.

Richard would have to remember this, if Bruce ever gave him any trouble. _Batwing- honestly. _"Miss al Ghul, as much as I'd love to watch you manipulate Bruce, I'm making a hologym run. So, please remember- even if the mind is elsewhere, there is a minor in the room." He walked into the hologym, seating himself in one of six chairs. Bruce had installed the spares to include the group of friends he had designed the place with. The experience was mental, but some of the effect was physical.

He had the headset on before Talia could lock in her retort. He disliked Talia, and bet that the others would agree. He would just have to do something about it, and he had just the idea.

**.Project.  
**After a long round in the hologym, there was no sign of Bruce or Talia. Victor was in HIVE, he didn't want to ask for Gar's help so soon after the Beast incident, and Rachel was about as social as he was. That left Kori, and a phone call. Kori was the best choice, but calling people on the telephone wasn't something he was familiar with. Luckily, as the phone book showed in tiny letters on yellow pages, there was only one listing for ANDERS on her street.

"Hello. This is Richard Grayson. May I speak to Kori?" he asked when the ringing stopped. Her communicator was off, which meant he had to use a less direct connection.

"Kori, you said?" a disbelieving female voice returned. "All other boys except that Stone fellow call for Connie. She's heading a missionary drive, in her school."

He had heard that voice when a client came to see Mr. Wayne's home office and sitting room. "I would like to speak with Kori, Mrs. Anders. I wanted to ask her about a project." It was true, actually. Mrs. Anders could just guess what kind of project her daughter was involved in.

"Oh. A school matter. Well, that's my littlest girl. I'll send her right over. Don't worry if she does all of it. All she does is study and go over to that Goth girl's house. Well, she'll go on to college, with her grades."

If he defended his friend, the message might not be delivered. "I'll talk to her when she gets here, then." He dutifully recited his address, then hung up with a forced polite good-bye after the message was delivered.

He spoke the instant Kori was down the staircase. "Kori, I don't know why your mother would say something like that about you. I think you're the nicest person I've ever met." The compulsion was very unlike him, but it was rewarded by a gentle (but still fairly constricting) hug from Kori. _Well, that wasn't such a bad idea after all. _

"What project did you have in mind?"

"Bruce has a girlfriend. Not a good one."

It was one of those moments that just seems too coincidental. Talia herself stormed in (if Richard's quiet remark of "speak of the devil" was heard by anyone, no one gave any sign), followed by an unhappy Bruce.

"I can't believe that the riff-raff approached our table. _Ed Nigma, _Bruce, was at our table, when we were in a nice restaurant. Do you know how many warrants there are out for his arrest?"

"Yes, and your father's granted pardons more times than Eddie's earned a felony. He's harmless, Talia. And why did I hear from him first about that job down at Third and Malone? You must have known about it."

"Business _after _dinner, Bruce. Sometimes, I think you're only dating me to hear what's going on in the underworld." She slammed her designer purse on the table, label up out of habit. That particular designer was famous for a very subdued label, usually hidden in the design of the purse- an S and a K entwined in an abstractly feline shape.

Kori exchanged glances with Richard and nodded, the pointed at the bag and then traced an outline of a mask on her face. He understood and nodded. Getting Selina to somehow be involved in the plan would work. Their conversation was fragmented, but he had never understood someone so well in dialogue. Through quick gestures, a plan was formulated. If Bruce and Talia noticed, all they saw was a pair of teenagers playing some silly game. They had no idea.

**.Late Night.  
**Victor was about to drift off to sleep. A quick knock on his door took care that idea. "Yes?" Even groggy, he remembered to pitch his voice a tone deeper than usual.

"Blood wants to see you." Jinx didn't introduce herself before he opened the door. "You're a real part of the team, now, and you're hearing about your part in the Plan."

_More capital letters- my lucky day. Or is it night? _He opened the door, blinking away sleep. This was why he was here. This was why he would walk away from the HIVE (and Jinx, not that he let himself remember that portion of the phrase just yet). He was a good guy, they were criminals. That was how it had to be, no matter how thin the line of separation was.

"Let's go," he said, keeping the statement friendly.

Stone was rewarded by a bright smile. "Yes, let's." She took his hand, and the pair walked down the hall together. He found himself wishing it could last.

**.Channel Surfing.  
**Garfield Logan didn't like empty houses. He had taken over the battered couch- Harry wasn't there to claim it. Shelia was pulling a double shift to help with a kidney transplant. She was one of few nurse practitioners in the area, and one of the best at assisting with surgery. If she could have afforded the tuition, he had heard her say once, she would have been a doctor. That daydream was rare, and she had quickly made the affair into a joke.

Harry was one of two mechanics at the local auto garage He was working with some car that Gar couldn't recall. Between '53 and wheel caps, Gar had lost at least twenty minutes of one of Harry's car talks. He wished he could make heads or tails of the jargon, but that wasn't his science. Harry would be home late, clothes spattered with oil, ready for a shower, conversation, a late dinner, and sleep in that order. Shelia didn't appreciate Eau de Garage, always heavy on motor oil.

Richard- he was still mad that Richard could have made that call. Kori was still a little foreign to him. Victor was in enemy territory. Rachel had looked tired and too ready to go home. Besides, Victor had asked him to wait to harass Rachel (Victor's words) until her oldest friend could be there to keep him whole and her calm.

He didn't have a GameStation, and wasn't about to head over to Richard's. With Gar's luck, that would result in an impromptu training session. Instead, he'd watch television. He flipped through channels, trying to find something he wanted to watch. _"Today in Iraq-"_ Click. _"The Dodgers held out, and this season just might-"_ Click. _"Four died in a tragic automobile-"_ Click. _"Work those delts! And one and-"_ Click. _"This handy gadget will revolutionize your life for just six easy payments of $39.99-" _Click. "_Today, reports of the gang known only as the HIVE came from a new source. The foremost team in causing crime has a fourth member instrumental in a heist at a local university, where the staff is still at work to calculate losses."_

Now Gar was paying attention. He fumbled for his communicator, opening all channels but Victor's, just in case. "Channel six. Don't ask, just look."

Richard and Kori watched on the large telescreen. Talia and Bruce were behind them, and gave the teenagers a few seconds to explain. The reporter explained, for everyone's benefit. "That's right, Chuck. I'm Amy Mathers, here live at the Forston University. The professors are currently running an inventory. Any second, we'll know what they do." Across town, a television crackled to life beneath a skin of dust. "This theft was orchestrated by a gang, supposedly from an organization known only as HIVE." The chatter was nothing useful. It was ignored, but not an image of four people that replaced a harried reporter.

"The loss is some type of new bomb detection software the university was developing. The staff has not lost any of the programming manuals, but the only current prototype was stolen. Security videos had time to catch a glimpse before they were overloaded in a very crude but very effective bit of hacking." The image showed four people the Titans could identify in any dark alley or brightly lit college corridor, Victor giving the camera a disdainful look. _No, not Victor. Stone. _

"Tomorrow, we're going in." Richard was sure. "I don't want an overeager cop taking potshots, and we need him out of there."

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow."

"I love ya, tomorrow," Gar pronounced solemnly. "Come on, I know you've heard the song." The static from three communicators died, but he didn't mind. He changed the station, leaving sensational theories about the motives behind the theft for the comedy channel. He'd get his fill of drama the next day.

**.Success.  
**Victor had committed a crime. That was the first thing he'd ever done that he wouldn't want to tell his father about, in one of the rare times his father was awake, out of the lab, and thinking about the present. Victor had never tried drugs. Happiness in a bottle or in a cloud of smoke wasn't real, and a price tag didn't mean problems would go away. He had only snuck out of the house to be a Titan, until now.

Now, he was seated in a shady tea room again, one that was at one point a principal's cozy office. Brother Blood regarded him from across a dim desk, and the shadows in the room made the whimsical wallpaper with dainty patterns foreboding.

"You want to know what the HIVE will do."

"Yes, I do. No use joining your fate to an unseen hand, but I'll be all-in, shown enough cards." He resorted to allegory almost instantly, guessing it could be of use. Blood looked like he could appreciate the allusion.

He did. Blood's thin lips curved into a smile, raising wrinkles across an old face. "I do hope so, Mr. Stone. I am in a temporary alliance with Slade, to start with the most basic of fact."

Only a few pointers from Rachel, and a couple more from Richard, kept his expression from changing. "He's not known for being nice to his friends."

"We're not friends. We simply share a common enemy, and both agreed that to temporarily join forces would be in our mutual interest." That was the high level of a gang, where friendships were displays of power.

"Trigon."

"Very perceptive, Mister Stone, not that I would expect anything less. Yes, Trigon. His influence and arrogance only increase with each new tariff. The gangs are little more than petty squabbles of thieves as he makes his own details. Students here have tuition, paid voluntarily from the proceeds of successful careers. My school is not something to be hired for a lark about town to fetch bomb-sensing equipment, and that is why Slade and I will split ways. When he becomes the new Trigon, the HIVE will be left alone."

"So, you'll let Slade take charge?"

"Yes. Running the entire complex would take time from my teachings. I doubt he would be in power for long. After one such insurrection, many more would spike up. That would undoubtedly create havoc I don't want to be a part of."

"So, what is your angle?"

"I'm playing dealer and chief better. I get Slade's plans, I play along, and I'm safe. Slade is in more trouble than I am, if we're found out. My actions would not be taken well, but I would probably come out alive. Without Slade, Trigon's chief tax collector, accounts will be too easy to forge. His successor will find no written records. Slade is too interested in job security to be sloppy."

Stone eased into a grin. "You want to set Slade on Trigon, or whatever way the big fight goes out. In the interim, you build your HIVE into something that could withstand a direct assault from Trigon." The old man was far from senile, and Stone could admit that. Victor had known at first glance.

"Yes. Something will happen, be sure of that, and I will be ready. No matter what it is, I have preparations in place. Go, sleep. You did well, Stone. You are one of the guests of honor at HIVE's dance tomorrow, dress is suggested casual. Students rarely listen, but that is the suggestion."

"I'll be there," Stone allowed before exiting the room with the customary arrogance. He would have to be at the dance, even if not to find any more snippets of information. He would leave after the dance, a very dysfunctional fairy tale of the costumed hero leaving the witch, as Jinx called herself when she was in cynical company.

**.Decisions.  
**School of all sorts flew by. In Forston High School, three teammates carefully planned a way to get rid of Talia. Gar had been recruited, and he and Kori quickly came up with a few schemes in varying degrees of possibility. Richard formed a plan. Rachel read the same line of a book again and again as her tea grew cold.

"We are going in for Victor today?" she asked, careful to keep the question quiet. It wouldn't do to be overheard.

"Yes. Did anyone get schematics?" Richard had a tentative sketch of how they would go in, based on the briefest of messages from Stone. No pre-determined code phrases or words were present, except to say that he knew the plans of the HIVE, and would be at some sort of dance before leaving. That didn't make sense. All agreed that he should be taken out, just in case. They didn't know what he was suggesting by insisting it was necessary to attend the dance.

"Here." Rachel didn't mention a few hours of microfilm searches. The library had old town council records, back when the HIVE had been a high school. She only handed over the blueprints in faded shades of yellow. "We'll get him out."

"No doubt about it," Gar agreed.

"I only hope he still wishes to come with us," Kori said, touching on the fear no one else had voiced. If someone had to, she might as well get it in the air and past them. This statement couldn't be blown away by simple pleasantries. Victor was deep into the HIVE, and the way back was always harder.


	17. Deception

_I know most people not reviewing are skipping over this section, but you could at least try humoring the author. I have hits coming out the ears, and just about no feedback to help me gauge the direction this story could go. As there are so few, I'd like to thank reviewers individually- Tammy Tambourine, IGAF-kun, Valda, RabidPumpkinMonkeyGoddess, Kayasuri-N (if you read her_ **Pirate Nevermore**_, you won't regret it- very good stuff), and dr.evil99 (likewise for his story,_**The Paragon of Animals**, _with a very nice focus on everyone's favorite green Titan). So, for this chapter, I would ask that if views top a thousand, I get a little more than six reviews. I'm going to be here for a while, and would like to know what goes through people's minds as they read this. Most people who don't review have probably skipped this, so I'm likely preaching to the choir. Sorry, choir- bad stuff happens to those who are liked, right?_

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_**Chapter Seventeen: Deception

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**

It was just like any other high school dance. Everyone dressed up, just a little (or so they told themselves, that creased slacks were just a tiny step up from torn jeans). Victor was no exception, even if the shirt under his coat was different, or the left leg of his pants shaped oddly. Mammoth seemed to dare Stone to comment at the beginning of the dance, leading a girl onto the floor. Stone didn't. Mammoth's tiny date was a beauty, delicate and with graceful steps that defied the past of her culture. Stone knew that she was an expert with sabers, and had not wanted to tangle with her. He had his pride, after all.

Gizmo didn't tug on coattails. He just started talking, and his audience could figure out who was being addressed. "Stone. Let's be blunt. Our agreement's working out, and I have to say that I was pretty impressed last night. No one knew if you had the guts to pull it off."

"So, our truce is a little more than a hostile agreement?"

"Exactly. You have no idea, how nice it is to find someone with Jinx's smarts. You just need to promise that you really do like Jinx. No currying favor with the higher-ups, no getting special treatment, no getting a good place in the HIVE- you like her, not what she is to everyone else."

"Deal."

"Good. As I've probably said before, if you break her heard, I'll pound your face in, gears. Understood?"

"Completely, short circuit." Stone realized with a start that he and Gizmo were close to- being friends. The conversation would have ended after a few more insults, but Victor stepped towards the dance floor almost involuntarily. He had seen a vision, and the vision looked impatient.

"Stone, will you _please_ stop gawking and get over here? If I don't have an obvious partner for a dance, I'll get swarmed." Jinx was serious. Her casual arrogance adapted for battle had nothing to do with her statement. Fighting companions were suddenly and simultaneously remembering that she was indeed female, and were working up the courage to approach.

"I won't let them," he promised. "And you look more beautiful than usual, which I didn't believe possible." He phrased the compliment carefully, remembering the pre-divorce spats between his parents. One misplaced adverb could mean a fight.

"You like the dress?"

"I like you, Jinx. Anything that makes you look that good is just a bonus."

She smiled. "Flatterer," she accused. _And that's not bad at all. _Most in the HIVE skipped straight to lewd banter. The music started as the hired disc jockey swallowed nervousness at a different sort of crowd. Jinx knew the old HIVE classics, and quickly brought Stone up to speed.

A favorite was a modified swing number. After the first verse of an old-school ballad his parents would recognize, he had it- and the spotlight had them. Without a conscious signal, he spun her away and back. She followed his lead, white skirts twisting with her. He never had pictured her in white. The chunk-strapped dress was very white, with only a band of pink marking an edge to a layered skirt that reached demurely past her knees. She had class, and didn't need the shock factor to catch attention.

"Stone, do you know anything else?" The HIVE had run through its repertoire, ninety minutes of motion punctuated by lightly spiked punch. The small aftertaste was a weakened tradition, only enough to give a taste. There were children present, after all.

He was about to respond when a slow song jerked into place, filling the best speakers thieves could steal. There was only one dance for this. For the first time in his life, Victor Stone enjoyed a slow dance. It was only ruined by the fact that she didn't know his name, and that Stone didn't exist.

"Stone- do you want to leave?"

"Huh?" he asked intelligently, interrupted from his thoughts.

"This dance. We could leave, go to the park."

"Tomorrow, maybe. Tonight, I like being here with you. I was just thinking, that's all- unless you want to leave." It was too hard to find Stone, and the other identity was slipping away like the last bit of ice cream. It had been on the ground- did he still want to be Stone?

"This is the first time I've ever had a good time at a dance, Stone, and that's thanks to you." She could dance, well enough to make Stone's little better than mediocre efforts look like he had always been that good. She danced like she fought, lithe and quick and liable to be trouble if she needed the chance to escape. She didn't explain this, and he didn't ask. It was a comfortable gap in knowledge, another small thing not everyone had to know about her.

"Jinx, I-"

He didn't know what he had been about to say. A dramatic entrance by four costumed heroes was not on his agenda. Jinx kicked away the short heels she had been dancing in without a second thought, ready to fight with no dangers to her balance. Mammoth lost his date in the crowd and joined Gizmo, flanking the pair. Both were ready to raise Cain for whoever tried to mess with their leader. Jinx was their sister, the best family that the world would find.

"Titans, go!"

The ballroom cleared of younger students, until only students with a designation above level Eight were left under limp decorations of wilting crepe paper. Stone noticed that the evacuation drill was done flawlessly. They had practiced.

"Get out. Keep yourselves for when we're committing a crime. This is a dance, not a raid." Jinx seemed less cold, snapping at the Titans, but it could be Victor's new way of finding the care behind the arrogance. Jinx knew she was a damn good fighter, to quote her own words, and saw no problem in admitting that.

"You broke into a university last night."

"That's what we do. It was a pity that the Titans couldn't stop us. I heard the rich brats were down on their luck, or at least whimpering with their tails between their legs because they couldn't handle a gang or two." Jinx didn't know why the Titans weren't attacking. The Titans had the advantage of surprise. Her team was not dressed for a fight, in neutral ground that was made unfamiliar to them by the alterations for the dance. Except- four Titans, not five. "Where's the last guy? Planning a sneak attack? We'll still fight."

Robin faltered in class-B banter for the first time. "We aren't here for the bomb detection supplies, much as we'd like to retrieve them. We know that security for that would be tight, and we wouldn't give warning. We came for someone who went willingly."

"We come for Cyborg," Raven clarified, shadows of a face in her hood in the strobe lights that still twinkled, unaware that the dance was over.

Victor would swear Raven could tell how he felt. Jinx grabbed his hand in hers, defiant. "Who do you steal? Some sort of spy?" Victor could almost see Jinx thinking, finding the possibilities and using that famous mind of hers that moved faster in times of stress.

"Mia is gone. I assume you are responsible for spiriting her away. She wanted to be gone," Jinx said slowly, "but she was not a spy."

Victor had sent a detailed e-mail. Kori had likely been the one, as she would be strong enough to force open the sick bay's painted-shut window. There was a sturdy fire escape below it, activated at the press of a concealed button Jinx had shown him (_just in case, shatter the glass and away you go)_.

Too late, Robin noticed the real ploy behind Jinx's show of thought. The HIVE surrounded them. Without a word, they grouped themselves shoulder-to-shoulder, a square of Titans with no backs open to attack.

"Attack pattern alpha!" Jinx yelled, drawing a small army of students to her. She was a pink-haired general in the midst of a war, eyes flashing as she reasoned that the Titans were trying to trick her.

The Titans were close to being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Robin knew the team needed help- and a distraction. Without five people, the team didn't feel balanced. "Cyborg!" he yelled. An entire school of criminals-in-training turned to look back over their shoulders. Jinx looked at Stone, whose face was suddenly half-covered. Or was it uncovered? She couldn't tell, and could only notice the new deletion of half a human face. She recognized both halves of that face.

"Stone?" she asked, and there was no arrogance in that little voice that couldn't possibly belong to Jinx. He could tell her that it was a joke, a gag, a distraction- she wanted it to be, and he knew. She didn't want him to lose a little of the look of Stone, the bad guy, and become the impassive hero. She didn't want to watch him take off his jacket and roll up a pant leg to show a few machine parts.

"Cyborg," Gizmo spat.

Mammoth, never the advocate for words, had a physical response. He punched the floor, denting the hardwood.

The room was dead quiet. No one dared break the silence, except the centers of a drama that had caught everyone's attention. "I'm sorry, Jinx."

She rallied instantly. Everyone but Victor could forget that split second of pure hurt and betrayal. "Knew you were too good to believe. Except this time, the polite, nice, athletic, smart, charming, and handsome young man isn't interested in his own gender. He likes do-gooding." The last phrase was derisive, and accompanied by a regal look only Victor saw through. He may have been a victim to his own wishing delusions, to think that she didn't feel complete condescension and no regrets. "Leave. Next time I catch you here, you'll regret it. I never want to see you in the HIVE again."

There was one thing to do. He left, with four friends. He left one behind. Sometimes, there's no way to avoid it. No matter what you do, what you say, or how you live, someone is just going to be hurt.

**.Home again.  
**Victor's transition back to normalcy was too easy. He detailed all he had gleaned from Brother Blood's talks, the set-up of the HIVE, and the whisperings of the cafeteria staff. All he wanted to do was sleep. He accepted the offer of a cot in Bruce's basement- showing up at his own house this late may or may not raise suspicion, but better safe than scrambling for excuses. Rachel had held back after the others had gone, but left when he asked her to. He would listen to what she had to say, but not that night.

If he slept, it was some few minutes in what seemed like hours of thinking. He was gone early. He found his father awake and eating breakfast. Vic pulled up a chair to the usually solitary table, found the few things necessary for a bowl of cereal, and ate in silence.

"How's your aunt?" his father asked finally, remembering his son had been gone.

"She's fine." His father had left, after that, descending back into his basement lair. The clarion call of research and busywork and forgetting had always rang over anything Victor had tried to say.

He wasn't much more talkative in school. He handed in homework to teachers he didn't quite remember doing the previous night, didn't say anything more than necessary, and could only remember the look on her face. Worse than the moment of vulnerability was the mask she had slipped in place so effortlessly, forgetting all that had been- he didn't know if she could, how she could. If she could let whatever they had experienced go down the drain without regret, he envied and almost pitied her.

"Victor, she didn't hate you. She was just finding out who you were in a less than desirable manner." Rachel was done, and the others looked ready to take over. She let them, abandoning the prickly briars of relationships for the simple tame world of a book, where all was already decided and laid out in neat lines of type.

"You did well, friend Victor. We needed to know the plans. I am sure that she could understand, given an explanation." Kori didn't like anyone to be sad, but it was worst when she couldn't do much of anything to get rid of a friend's gloom.

"Vic, we needed you to do it. Besides, you let us have the chance to regroup." Gar didn't know what to say. _Sorry, but the girl you obviously like is on the other side of everything. _

"She had a choice, a few years ago. You made the right one. She didn't."

He was not in the mood for Richard. "You couldn't understand. They aren't evil. They are people like we were, who needed friends and just found them in a different place."

"Mia did not wish to be in the HIVE, as she said on the way to the hospital."

"No, Kori, she didn't. But she had friends in the HIVE, and they stayed with her. They still liked her, and accepted that she wasn't cut out to be a villain."

Rachel wasn't surprised. "They're just kids, right?"

Victor nodded wearily, exhaustion weighing over the exhilaration that someone could understand. "They're just like us."

**.Roots.  
**Victor Stone was not at practice. After hearing about Vic's week of training with the HIVE's best, Richard excused Victor from practice. That didn't matter, except as a formality. Victor wouldn't have gone. It was nearing twilight, Jinx's favorite time of day. If she wanted to say something, she would come. He would be ready.

It was almost dark, and the shadows were only darker for the scattered streetlights along the path. He wasn't about to give up. By the time someone seated herself on the opposite rook of the gnarled oak, he had made and forgotten dozens of speeches that never sat exactly right.

"Stone- or should I say Cyborg?" The caustic greeting didn't matter. She had come. He still had a chance, however slim, to not be eternally hated. That mattered to him, even if he couldn't explain why.

"You could try Victor."

"Really?"

"I went in there to figure out why someone slipped a mercenary's liquor into a friend's prescriptions. I have a much better idea. I had one friend who needed quite a few stitches, a guy who still is nervous about getting angry, someone else feeling guilty, and a leader who wants answers yesterday."

"So, you were spying for a specific purpose." Jinx was just as impassive as he could be, and he didn't know her well enough to read that blank mask.

"Yes. This plan was created shortly after someone slashed Raven bad enough that she needed well over one hundred stitches, probably two hundred, all told. The doctor we called in didn't want to count."

"How badly did she lose a fight?" Jinx knew from experience that Raven wasn't half bad, especially for a rich girl not completely used to low-down tricks. It was always interesting, fighting someone close to your own level in skill.

"It was an ambush. She was unarmed, in civilian clothing. He had bladed brass knuckles. She held him off long enough for us to get there. If a friend hadn't gotten there in time- she would be dead."

"Who was it?" Jinx asked, expressions returning all at once. The contrast was dizzying, from restraint to passion in less than one second. "That is not a fight."

"He's in jail. Does the name Adonis ring a bell?"

"Slade's latest Pavlovian experiment, sure. Hand over drugs, watch him beg. The stupid git was always looking for the best ways to build muscle- for him, that meant fast and illegal. He picked on some kid or other, boasted he scared the guy so bad he'd never fight. Last I heard, some shrimp beat the snot of Adonis. Prison explains why he dropped off the map- we'd hoped he skipped town."

"He is in jail, with the FBI trying to figure out why he had such a dose of the liquor. He was a bully of the worst sort- he loved that power. Raven says that he would have killed her." No one on the team doubted the statement, not when Rachel was, well, Raven.

"Raven just might know."

"Come again? I thought you two had met, twice, and there wasn't much of an introduction."

"I've- seen her around." Jinx didn't ask how much Raven had told the other Titans. Jinx wasn't supposed to know who Raven was, but a few years ago a purple-eyed girl her own age had warned her to not go into the wrong room in Trigon's mansion. Not many girls had purple eyes.

"Makes you wonder, doesn't she? She's talking Robin around. We know that there's not much of a gap between wrong and right. We help out people who need it."

She smiled, almost wistfully. "Not me. I'm a self-sufficient bad girl. I don't think I can change, live the straight and narrow. I've seen too much to traipse into high school, and I burned my bridges a long time ago."

"You could build new ones."

"That's about as likely as you coming to the bad side of the equation. We both know that this can't work."

Victor had known. He just had refused to admit it until she did. "I guessed that much from the start. But- we'll made an effort. I'll remember this."

"Not me?"

He smiled. "I'll be seeing you around, probably as Cyborg. I suppose the Titans and the HIVE don't get along."

"And a date would be out of the question," she mused, considering. All things considered, this was better.

"It could have been something, Jinx."

"Maybe it was. We had our fun- maybe we can finish a slow song sometime. Even if you have to find another girl, I don't care. Just- don't wait for me, Victor, because I'm happy on the darker side of things." She stood, however reluctantly, and brushed the earth from her clothing.

"I guess this is good-bye."

"Somewhere, a couple is saying hello. It's karma. If we're meant to be, we'll know. Until then- don't think I'll go easy on you lot, just because I know the back-story."

"Likewise." His last word was futile. She was already gone, with a perfectly executed cartwheel. He felt that he could go back to normal, however slightly. She understood. So did he. For a perfect moment, the universe lined up and he thought he knew the answer to a riddle someone hadn't asked yet. Maybe, someday, they'd have a second chance at this dating nonsense.


	18. Recovery

_To answer a few quick questions, regarding characters: Yes, Mia does have the same illness that she had in the comics. That comes into play much later, for anyone who doesn't know off-hand (I didn't, until a bit of research and hear-record information). Talia is indeed from Batman canon, which I'm borrowing from quite liberally- credit for dr.evil99, for confirming several passing details. So far, the only comic appearances are Teen Titans and Batman universes. Ask away, if you're curious- I will answer questions about things addressed in the story, unless it'll be explained in the plot or would give away one of my ideas for later._

_Oh, and to all reviewers- thank you very much. I felt much better about the last chapter, all thanks to people I have and will likely never meet. See? Power of the written word. Eighteen is better than six. Remember that. So, this chapter might not be the most exciting ever, but there is always something that will be important later- for all playing the find-the-comic-characters game, there are only passing mentions in this chapter of previously introduced people. The game picks up later, no worries. Again, thanks to all reviewers._

_

* * *

_**Chapter Eighteen: Recovery

* * *

**

All was relatively normal the next day, to everyone's relief. Richard made the mistake of mentioning a few things about a teacher Kori insisted on understanding. His lunch hour was lost to lengthy explanations interrupted by even more questions, and neither of them minded at all.

Victor gave Rachel a brief account of meeting Jinx. Rachel, for once, didn't have a book propped in front of her like a shield. She had her usual herbal tea, and had palmed and swallowed a single white tablet while yawning. Victor missed the quick motion. Gar didn't. She was good, maybe,but he had perfected that trick after years of practice.

"Are you feeling okay, Rachel?"

"Yes," she said, very quickly. She did not want that mess brought up. It was better to just give a quick explanation. If she didn't, he wouldn't shut up, and she was not in the prime condition necessary to carry out her usual threats. "I just take a little ibuprofen. My arms get a little sore." Her long-sleeved shirt, with a collar close to the neck, didn't show any wounds. She had been wearing similar shirts all week.

"No one could tell where you were cut up. There was blood everywhere." Victor would rather forget the ordeal, but he couldn't just ignore it. "Pam-" they always said Pam where someone could recognize Dr. Isley's name- "wouldn't count stitches, but she was working for about two hours, about how long Gar was out."

Rachel knew what he was asking. "My arms, quite a few around the collarbones, one cut across the abdomen that I barely dodged, and my back is interesting," she said mildly. All considered, she hadn't been cut up too badly. The catalogue of injuries was as about as exciting as a grocery list, from all inflections. She was ready to move on.

"You've been that bad, and carrying your books all week?" Victor should have known. "Someone would have gotten them. Any of us would have helped you." She wouldn't have let them, but if they'd stolen her books- no, it was too late for could-have, and she would not have accepted help.

"I managed. I'm taking the minimum painkiller." She could undoubtedly use more, but she could deal with the ache that renewed itself every time she moved an arm, carried a wait, or breathed too deeply. The abdomen cut was nasty, not that anyone but Pam would know. Her face had healed very quickly, to her relief. Those were harder to hide.

"My arm was bad enough; you could have told us." Gar wished he had noticed. Rachel had to have winced, or at least have given some small sign.

"Let me see your arm- the stitches should be ready to come out." She tugged his sleeve up, glancing at the line of green sutures. "I'll take them out this afternoon."

"Shelia said as much, but said it was up to the original doctor. Are we patrolling tonight?"

Richard paused in the middle of explaining the difference between a female dog and Ms. Amberg, his hypochondriac health teacher. "If Rachel's up to it, we will."

"I've had a week. I'll be fine," she said, daring anyone to contest her statement.

"You have not had a week, and you're getting back-up." Victor was adamant. "I won't make it obvious, and you've helped me out before."

"Fine, but only until my stitches are out." She wouldn't have accepted help with any other phrasing. She would never ask. She couldn't let herself, a matter of pride. Victor understood. He'd been the same way.

**.Unraveling.  
**Richard and Kori were sparring in the hologym. In virtual reality, pain was only as real as created surroundings. No bruises were left, and soreness was quickly forgotten. Victor was finishing Raven's new communicator. He would eventually have enough time to make the entire set, but hers had to be first. Her last had met an unfortunate end.

That left Rachel to her self-assigned task. All she needed was a sharp pair of scissors. She chose a corner of Bruce's conference room, one of few spots in the Batcave with bright lighting. She found an unintentional gift from Dr. Isley- a pair of sterilized scissors left in the medical bay.

He took a seat, at her insistence. She pulled up a chair. By the time she unwrapped the sterile tie that kept the scissors from being contaminated, he had his shirt off. If she told him that it wasn't necessary, she would have even more awkwardness to deal with, as well as a patient that would tense up. Tense muscles were no joy to work with, and made an easy job four times harder.

"This will feel odd," she warned. She stared at the line of stitching. "The cut is completely healed, so it shouldn't hurt. The exact sensation is described-"

"As someone pulling something through your skin," he finished. "I'm an expert at getting stitches removed," he boasted.

"Really. You seemed surprised by the needles, as I recall."

"I've never been conscious while being stitched up. I still have scars- this monster's the biggest." He pointed to a line that crossed his abdomen with neat precision _(not a wild slash in a dark night, a cut that sprayed blood in a line of fire)._ "A lion got me, when I was eight."

She gave the scar a cursory glance. "I'm sure lions leave cross-patterns preferred in hospitals, over a likely spot for liver surgery."

"He was a really smart lion."

"And I thought you were inoperable." No one was listening, but she still didn't mention his medical affliction.

"I was, but the lion still tried it out."

"Enough with the joke. It's not at all funny, is in very bad taste, and we both know what happened. Don't move your arm- rest your elbow on the table, if that would help."

"So, jokes are out. Does that leave anything to discuss?"

"Not in particular. Some people prefer to close their eyes for this part, but others like to make sure I won't slice them open." She adjusted her grip on the scissors, clipping a single stitch and pulling gently. The suture came out clean, which meant the rest would be fine.

Scissors made him a little wary, a natural reaction. He'd met far too many cheery interns. By nine, he had informed six different young doctors that saying "oops," however quietly or cheerfully, was never a good idea in a hospital room. "I'm fine. I'm a pro, remember?"

She was fast. Within eighteen snips, she had finished with the rest of the line of sutures and the scissors. She pulled out the cut stitches, giving each a critical look. No pus, no blood, and no resistance from the skin. She had the sutures out before he could think of something to say.

"You are good at that. Trust me. I've met interns." The charming smile that swayed so many candy stripers had about as much effect as a jack-o'-lantern. "Are you going to be a doctor?"

"You asked that last time. No. I'm going into the family business, and that isn't medical examination of any kind. Your arm will still be a little sore, and you'll have a scar to add to your collection." She had her fill of conversation from the day, and he knew he was about to lose her.

"It'll just make me look tough." He left an easy opening, one that didn't need her full attention to find.

"You need all the help you can get." She dropped a fistful of fraying sutures into the garbage can. She already had a book in her hand.

"What are you reading?"

She didn't look away from the book. "A novel that is far better without talking. Go find someone else to bother."

"Kori and Richard are having a virtual duel. Victor's patching together a new communicator for you, hopefully with less static. Everyone gets one, but yours had to be the first after- last weekend," he finished lamely.

She looked away from her book, only to find that he wouldn't meet her eyes. "Will you at least look at me?" She remembered the many other reasons she had encountered for that very behavior. The most common cause was her eyes, and the fact that they were violet. Most people found that very unsettling.

"I- You were hurt, bad, and I didn't bother to remember how bad off you'd be." He still looked away, staring at a safe wall. He didn't want to read what she thought of him.

"I was not bad off. We've gone over this, remember? You managed to save my life. And- I don't think the target of the whole affair really was you. My father has enemies, powerful ones." Technically, she wasn't lying. It hadn't been her father, she knew. Trigon told her when he was messing with her life, and someone had wanted her dead. Trigon wanted her to be his deputy and eventual replacement, one with a little more loyalty than fear alone could instill.

"Your dad works to fight organized crime." Gar remembered that detail.

He was still looking at the wall, and didn't notice involuntary signs of being caught in a lie. She hated lying to the Titans, but there was no alternative. "Basically," _that's not true. He _is _organized crime, around here. _"This is why I shouldn't get at all close to people, even in proximity. They only get hurt."

"That's not true."

She didn't respond for a few seconds, surprised by how intense his words and gaze could be. She was caught, again- there should be a law against eyes that reminded her of grass from that playground. "You've had a week of explanations. You gained a sudden reputation. My being in a remote proximity does not make up for all that nonsense."

"That's what friends are for, right?"

"No." She collected her book, standing. "I don't have any friends, and don't want them." With that, she left for the sanctuary of the room she called hers, closing the door with a definite _click_.

Victor had heard her. "Gar, you do know she's feeling extremely guilty about the whole incident, right?" He had been ready to hand off Rachel's new com, but she had left. It seemed that he was still the only person who understood the difference between what Rachel said and what Rachel meant.

"So, she would react this way to anyone?" The nod was encouraging. "But- why would _she _feel guilty?" He hadn't done it, proved through the police's interviews with Adonis.

"It was connected to her father. She's pretty quiet about him, but I gather that he isn't the best guy in the world, no matter what she says." Victor didn't give much detail, but that was about all he knew.

"It was unreal. I didn't know that the time had passed. All I remember clearly at all, besides the blood and the anger, is the scream."

"I remember." Guys usually wouldn't have this kind of talk. Guys usually wouldn't have dealt with this kind of situation. "You were in there, behind whatever else took over. That's why I couldn't believe that you'd done it. And- if you get a chance, have a word with the others."

"Not Richard- he's being self-righteous about a flash decision. I know that events might have forced his hand, but I don't want to deal with him now. Kori's been weird. Every time I've said something to her this week, she very nicely ends the conversation and retreats. Did I- do anything?"

"No," Victor said, getting rid of that worry. "I should have known- Richard wouldn't mention it, Rachel was out, and Kori's still feeling bad for what she did. When we found you and Rachel, we couldn't get to her. You were protecting her a little too well, and nothing we tried worked. Robin told Kori to take you out." That had been Robin. Robin was Richard taken to the superlative.

"So, that explains the goose-egg. I don't blame her- you guys needed to get to Rachel."

"Better tell her that. I'm going to give Rachel her new com- Kori and Richard should be out soon." Victor found the walk across the basement a little too short. He didn't have time to prepare. He knocked. "Rachel, I have your communicator, the new and improved version."

"I'll get it later. Thanks, Vic."

"I know he annoys you, but you could leave talks so that I'm not perpetually on damage duty. Besides, I haven't really talked to you in a while. I miss that."

"When did we ever talk?"

"When you were eight, and wouldn't say a word. When I was fourteen, and my brother died, and you left an anonymous hand-written eulogy that could only have been from you. We don't have conversations in the usual way."

"No, we don't," she agreed, voice muffled by the door. "Is there a point?"

"If you think someone's your friend, call them a friend. You have so much smoke around your mirrors that no one can tell if you're even doing a trick. I can barely tell what you mean, Rachel."

"You want a happy-go-lucky friendly teammate, hire a cheerleader."

"We don't need to find someone who's happy-go-lucky. We have Kori and Gar for that. You can just try out being honest about who you call a friend."

"So, you'd feel self-actualized if I had a list of friends that can be counted on a hand missing a thumb?

"I'd hope you could admit it to yourself. That's all up to you, Rachel. Your communicator will be on the conference table." He left. She'd think things over. She probably wouldn't change her mind, but there was always the chance. The chance made any amount of time worth the potential reward.

Gar found his chance after a dazed Richard took off the headset for the hologym, Kori following suit a few seconds later. Richard was almost immediately approached by Victor about the best time to upgrade systems after pirating parts from the old communicators, a valid query that left Gar with an opening.

"Kori, can I talk with you for a minute?"

"I-" There was no real excuse, and Kori was a horrible liar. "Yes."

"I don't want our friendship to be you running away all the time. I don't blame you."

"You- don't?"

"Of course not. It was the only choice. Rachel needed help, and you guys needed to get her home."

"So, no feelings that are not soft?"

"Yes, no hard feelings."

"And- my patterns of speech are not- bad?"

"No, of course not. You just have a different way of talking. We understand you, even if it takes a little bit longer sometimes." He couldn't think of the reason for the question. "What brought that up?"

"That's what you said, when you were- primal."

"I don't remember anything like that. I remember- nothing, and then Rachel, and seeing Adonis."

"You were most rude, but all now understand. You also ate Richard's sandwich, which was most full of meat."

"No way. I don't eat meat."

"You did last week. So- we knew that something was happening. We just had no idea what it was, or how to help."

"It's weird. I keep seeing people watching me, like I could explode at any moment. And- I know that something changed."

"You are still the same person. What others did may affect what you can do, but you did not make the choice to be a bad person. Maybe you will feel that you can use what changed in you to be a better fighter, because that is the best revenge. Use the bad for good, and it won't haunt you as heavily."

"Kori?" She wasn't smiling.

"I know, Gar- you were part of some experiment or other. Maybe people aren't born to render people unconscious. But- if you can remember the fighting, you can use it."

"I'll try, Kori," he promised.

She smiled, so happily that he almost forgot darker expressions. "Let us go tell the others that all are ready to patrol. You will know how to fight." She was gone in the next instant, sunbeams spreading as she coaxed Rachel from her room, convinced Richard the team was ready, and accepted a new communicator from Victor with a smile so bright it almost hurt to look at her.

Gar didn't mention Kori's more cryptic statements as five costumed superheroes clambered into the car. Raven, as the current member of the casualty list, had rights to a passenger seat. No one brought up her injuries, and her cloak was firmly wrapped over the leotard that covered all wounds.

Richard couldn't place an emotion. Gar and Kori were exchanging looks, and for once he wished he had taken the cramped middle seat. No one else was watching a silent conversation. Victor was driving. Rachel was having a quiet conversation about directions for the night, suggesting a few places that just might have trouble. No one asked why she always seemed to know.

He felt very uncomfortable, mask on and behind the driver. Kori and Gar were now talking, very quietly. The usual smile on her face was a little subdued, but still present. He couldn't think how to join a conversation he didn't understand. Instead, he sat back and only glanced to his right every few seconds. Maybe, later, he could talk to her about something that required whispers.

**.Laud.  
**"Great job," Robin told his team, watching as police officers put the latest vagabonds into the back of their cruisers. He waited until the police were gone to continue. "Vic, the static-free communicators are much better, and the cover on Rachel was great. Gar- that kind of fighting is what the team can use. Rachel, I have no idea how you flipped thug number three into that wall, but please do that again some time. Kori- that was amazing."

Kori was first to respond to the unexpected positive comments, with a happily restrained hug. "Richard, the odd words from you are a great improvement." She held on for longer than usual, and the full wattage of her smile was directed at him.

"Um- thanks?"

"We only need a certain level of social ineptness on this team. The current volume should be fine." Rachel's insulting compliments were typical, and normal.

"Anyone up for pizza?" Gar asked. "I checked out Angelina's menu, and she has a vegan offering."

"I'm in. We can stop by Richard's place to change. Victor Stone has a promise of free food, and Cyborg doesn't." Vic was always ready for pizza, especially at Angelina's.

"We will leave an exorbitant tip, then." Kori had more than enough spare cash, and always left good tips for waitresses or waiters. Why not? Making someone else's day better never hurt.

"Titans, let's go to pizza." For the first time, Richard felt he could get used to this group deal. Four friends that all liked each other- a little out-of-uniform time could only help.

**.Dinner at Angelina's.  
**"This is the place you recommended?" Rachel gave a doubtful look to the décor. Pink, frills, lace, and- there were doiliesbeneath table lamps best described as 'cute'. Even in usual apparel- jeans, high-cut tee-shirt with long sleeves- she felt like one of the many would-be Goths littering the school, reading dark anime and dressing in mall-syndicate clothing.

"Yes. They have good pizza, even if the proprietor has different tastes in interior decorating." If Richard defended the excess pink, the place had to be good. "Kori had to just about drag Victor and me into the place the first time, but it was worth it."

Kori beamed. "Angelina's pizza was the first cuisine I remember tasting in America. I lived in this nation until I was three, and just returned last summer." Connie had insisted on having a "normal" education, to quote the derisive speech given before Connie Anders had departed the current mission to come to America. Connie had grown tired of a fragmented curriculum in many languages.

"Where have you lived?" Richard could almost envision the guidelines to typical conversation, the unwritten rules everyone else had already read.

"China, for four years, Indonesia until I was nine, I was in Kenya until I was twelve, and then a few countries in the northern part of South Africa. I did visit Italy for a conference, when I was ten. Their pasta is better, but I like the American version of pizza." Kori didn't find her childhood abnormal. She was used to the typical reaction- _poor things, never having a home. _Most people never understood that she had loved it.

"Wow. You'll have a killer college application." Victor guessed Kori didn't want to go into detail. "How many languages do you speak?"

"Not that many, and my bests are still Swahili and English."

"Swahili? That's from Africa, right?" Rachel had heard of the language. She hadn't expected Gar to ask that question.

"Yes. I know the pure form of Swahili, without Western influence. One of the Masai, a _moran, _was a close _rafiki._" There was no other word for her warrior friend.

"Rafiki? As in the crazy baboon in the Disney movie about the lion?" That comment from Garfield had been expected. Normalcy was restored.

"Yes. _Rafiki _is the Swahili word for friend, _simba _is lion. The language sounds odd, at first hearing, but is much easier to learn than Chinese." Kori was ready for a new topic. "Have you seen Talia recently, Richard?"

He grimaced. "I caught her exfoliating her ring finger yesterday. I do not want her in the house."

"Talia?" Victor hadn't heard of the saga.

"Bruce's girlfriend," Richard explained.

"You want Talia to leave, or be replaced?" Victor asked.

"Either. She wants to cut down on time spent in the basement, and Bruce is about to cave." Richard didn't intend any puns. He was serious.

"This is a team effort- all in favor?" Vic asked. Four heads nodded. "It's unanimous. Devious plans- fork 'em out, Titans. Rachel- this is your kind of scenario. Do you have anything?"

"I need to meet her first." Rachel would have better ideas, and would be completely sure that Talia deserved what she had coming. Prosecuting the innocent wasn't what she wanted, after all, but for the annoying- she would come up with something.


	19. New Deception

_To address various concerns, before I begin the usual rambling mess of an author's note: the lack of action was intentional, as not all chapters can contain drawn-out physical scenes, Rachel's home life will come up, but she won't give everything away until she's ready (and we all know that could be a while), and Kori's time hasn't come just yet. I do feel that she hasn't been completely covered, but I can't balance all five of them perfectly- she'll have her time in the spotlight, don't worry. Here's a challenge for all of you- let's see if this chapter can get more than twenty reviews. Reading this from the future? Go ahead and drop a line- multiple reviews aren't at all an issue. As always, thanks to dr.evil99 for listening to various rants about this chapter. There's something for everyone, and I can't have constant action. That would get old fast. Trust me- we'll have some.

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_

**Chapter Nineteen: New Deception

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**

The meeting didn't go well. Talia gave the Titans an appraising look, taking in everything in a single glance (or so it seemed) before continuing her conversation with Bruce. She didn't notice that the girl with the shockingly violet hair had met her condescending gaze, or that the teenager wasn't at all intimidated by a dismissive wave of the hand.

"Really, Bruce, children should not fight crime. My father will get this town fixed up, hopefully without a nasty funeral for five. They'll only be hurt."

"Talia, he's had four terms. These 'children' have a name for themselves already. Give them their due- this isn't a joke to them."

"I don't like it. You spend too much time in costume, anyhow. What was your excuse, for missing that anniversary dinner?"

"I had a lead, on the Napier case. If I can find concrete proof why that hit was made, I'll find the next clue. I know there's a reason Wilson's partner in crime was killed. That will show how I can get at the big hierarchy."

"Bruce, it was two years ago. Yes, Napier was nasty. Remember what he and Slade Wilson did? That was a warning. Napier is _dead_."

"'That' deserves retribution."

"Slade?" Richard asked.

"Slade. Until two years ago, he had a partner in crime, literally. Jack Napier was stark raving mad, compounded after I – er, long story. Basically, a few things in my instant covering fog and the police's pepper spray didn't blend with spilled chemicals from the fight. He went from cold-blooded to nuts, and only grew more ruthless. The slight changes in appearance probably didn't help, but made him stand out in the crowd. He and Slade were co-lieutenants under Trigon, which never lasts in illicit organizations. Slade killed him."

"And Bruce has been trying to pinpoint the reason for years. Brucie, honey, Jack Napier is probably swimming with the fishes crammed in four different cinderblocks. Slade and Napier invented half of the common ways to dispose of bodies between them."

"I can't get Napier, but I'll get one of the other two," Bruce maintained. "She never made me promise. She told me not to, as a matter of fact."

"She knew it was dangerous. Bad things happen in hero work, good kids or not. Batgirl made her choice. You should move on."

"Batgirl?" Richard asked. Five Titans were trying to figure out what was going on, with a past they hadn't experienced as the constant backdrop.

"Well, I certainly picked a good day for a visit," a voice said from the elevator. The rarely-used lift was in the wall across from the television screen, and the doors were wide open. Barbara Gordon wheeled herself into the main room, making the sharp turn that meant she wouldn't crash into the table.

"Are you coming as Oracle today?" Bruce asked, glancing at the computer printouts stacked on her lap.

"Yes, Oracle today," she agreed. Richard recognized her, both as a voice he had heard in what he'd thought a dream and as the secretary/receptionist at the Forston Police Department. "But, seeing that your nephew is holding his mask and is in your Batcave, Babs will do. Or, since the mood seems to sway towards nostalgia, Batgirl."

"Batgirl was my sidekick a few years back," Bruce explained, since five people were hopelessly confused. "She switched to Oracle two years ago, and now knows more about Forston than anyone has a right to."

"Probably," Babs agreed. Modesty was a waste of her time, and she didn't idly brag. She saw all the information the police had, passed along information to the mayor's office, and had her own file scanners and electronic spies that were all definitely illegal.

"Bruce, can't we be alone tonight?" Talia asked, giving a skeptical look to the receptionist and the teenagers.

"What do you have today?" Bruce asked Oracle, forgetting Talia's question for a moment. Talia stormed out muttering, and no one particularly missed her. Babs took the gap in the conference table, Bruce took his usual seat, and the Titans filled in after a wave from Bruce.

"An obscene amount of communication between some bumbling idiot named Adonis and Slade. Adonis volunteered for some steroid test run to pay off a few heavy debts, and didn't even try to scramble his message. The kid's in jail, and Slade definitely was behind that incident."

"That sounds about right," Gar said, not encouraging discussion on the matter.

"Nothing about Napier, Bruce. Save your energy for living villains, would you?"

"Babs, you of all people know why."

"Yes, and the last thing I want is for you to keep up this ridiculous crusade for revenge," she snapped. She rolled her eyes, appealing to the Titans. They might understand the exasperation always garnered from a talk with Bruce. "Would one or all of you please convince him that I'm perfectly happy as a desk officer? I have my share of action, all from the comfort of my own office."

"Why would you not be happy?" Kori asked. She had noticed that the mood in the office was much too light to make the job an unpleasant one.

"Exactly- give the girl a kewpie doll and get over yourself, Bruce. I get through crowds- I start moving, people scatter. Anyone that gives me a pitying look has their toes run over. That stops all but the most irritating, and I can deal with them. So, are we going to dwell on your Napier angst fest, or move onto the latest rumors that I guarantee factual?" She met his best Batman glare. He couldn't explain to her what Napier had done. She was the expert on that subject.

Bruce knew fighting Barbara on the issue was pointless. "Okay, what else do you have for me today?"

"Thought you'd never ask," she said, pulling a laptop computer from her armrest. "The usual- Harley sends her regards and reminds you that Napier is D-E-A-D dead, Pam says get over yourself, HIVE's elite team hasn't been seen for a few days, Nigma doesn't have any warrants out for him this week, and Slade is making some move or other. The little information I've gleaned is from a new source, not Trigon's mainframe. I don't think the big guy knows about this- Brother Blood and Slade have been exchanging encrypted e-mails. I broke those into English, but they wrote in code. Slade's starting some other phase of his plan- two, I guess, but I'm not sure."

"What was phase one?" Richard asked.

"Awareness," she said, bringing up the relevant database to double-check.

"That could have been when HIVE did, when they trounced us the fist time." Rachel was fairly sure of her answer.

"Yes, but the next name makes no sense- talk of Loki mixed with jibberish strings. I've referenced Norse mythology and all criminal nickname databases. No traits match the villain- it's probably some part of the tale, but Loki comes up too often to isolate just one bit of the story."

"We'll figure it out," Richard said confidently.

"We will," Babs agreed. "Let's just hope we figure it out who Loki is before Slade shows his hand."

**.Cheese that is Grilled.  
**A pair of especially bold carjackers was stopped before eleven o' clock A.M. Gar had spotted the two, disappeared into Bruce's basement, caused a chaos of uniforms, and landed the final hit on the slicker of the two thieves. Robin barely noticed that Beast Boy was the event's liaison with the police, cracking jokes and befriending a pair of officers skeptical about young costumed crime-fighters.

_Loki. Slade. _The two were connected, but he couldn't find the link. He had looked into mythology, and the basic stories about the figure. _Which villain is Loki? _He didn't note changing back to normal apparel, or Kori's offer to make lunch in Bruce's kitchenette. He nodded before processing the question she asked. If he concentrated hard enough, he could figure this out. As leader, it was his responsibility.

"Richard." Kori's voice interrupted his thoughts. Twenty minutes had passed. "It is time to consume the meal known as lunch."

Still lost in contemplation, he didn't notice an unusual silence in the basement. He accepted a plate with a witch of sand of bread that is toasted and cheese that is grilled (grilled cheese sandwich, he corrected automatically). He picked up the sandwich and took a bite before he could recognize odd tactile sensations.

The taste rid his mind of lingering thoughts. He nearly gagged, but had already begun the process of swallowing. Bringing _that _up again wouldn't be worth it. "Kori," he said, after downing in one gulp the glass of soda she had kindly not added to, "what was that?"

"The grilled cheese sandwich, which is a favorite of Americans, correct?"

"Did you butter the bread?" Gar asked, coming out of hiding. Victor had accidentally whisked away the rest of the witches of sand.

"I used mustard to ensure that the cheese would adhere to the bread."

"So, there was mustard baked to the bread." Gar could cook, a necessity in quite a few foster homes. He was trying to find the reason Bruce's smoke alarms had nearly gone off.

"No, cheese baked onto mustard baked onto bread."

"Um, Kori, just so you know- cheese goes inside the bread. Buttered sides of the bread are out, so it won't stick to the pan, and if you want to add mustard, that should just be yours. That's an add-to-taste ingredient."

"Perhaps you could demonstrate?"

"Maybe not grilled cheese- the pans need a wash or twenty, and I'm vegan. No meat, no dairy, no animal-based food. I could show you how to make macaroni and cheese." That was a very simple thing that was very hard to mess up, and he would help.

"Is that vegan?"

Gar shrugged, finding the needed box in a lower drawer. Everyone he had met had the staple of cuisine somewhere. "With all the artificial ingredients, it's hard to tell. I'll show Kori, and lunch should be ready in a few minutes. Bruce has margarine and soy milk- it tastes like the normal stuff."

Victor went back to replacing Robin's communicator. He had finished Kori's. Richard, forgetting deep thoughts for a few minutes, watched Kori and Gar. Rachel had yet to look away from her book, a work of fiction with an un-obscured cover.

Gar and Kori got along without any difficulty. She didn't understand most jokes, especially references to pop culture, but still laughed. She paid rapt attention to the correct function of the timer, looked ready to take notes when he used a table knife to slice two tablespoons of margarine from the stick, and watched intently when he poured half a cup of soy milk. Following a few quick reminders to not be too enthusiastic, she stirred bright orange false cheese powder (if that ever had been an animal product, it wasn't now) into the dish. Gar spooned some into bowls, avoiding a potential problem by hiding the mustard, and lunch was served.

"Friend Garfield, perhaps you could teach me how to cook?" Kori suggested after her second serving of the orange powder and bent noodles. "Besides macaroni, I mean."

"Sure, Kori- I bet you could manage Jell-O without any problems. We can work up to harder things. All you need for Jell-O is measuring, stirring, and boiling water, then waiting a few hours." He knew she wouldn't be insulted by starting with easy things, and he would try avoiding a culinary disaster if at all possible.

She was amazed to learn of color possibilities, and was sure she wished to make the O of jell. Rachel even sampled some of Kori and Gar's concoction, and promised she would probably share Jell-O. Victor resolved to help his dad out, some time- it wasn't fair for one guy to do everything. Richard glowered as Kori and Gar chatted, more resentful than he'd felt in years, all because two friends had a mutual friendship and got along well. He might as well spend his energy finding Loki. No one else would.

**.Having Words.  
**"Somebody needs to talk to Richard. He hasn't suggested training, and he's been sitting there for two hours." Victor didn't understand what was going on. "That's not me- I need to finish his communicator."

"I had the last talk. I've completed my quota." Rachel didn't say how long her quota lasted.

"No way." Gar hadn't been on the best terms before the entire Beast incident, and had noticed more than a few hostile looks just that day.

"Should I have words with him?" Kori asked.

"Yes," three Titans agreed. Kori was safe. Not even Richard could bring himself to snap at her often, and she was slowly getting him to be someone she could take out in public.

"Friend Richard?" she began, tapping him on the shoulder.

"You have other friends. Bother them."

"No."

"You don't have other friends?"

"You don't need to sound so pleased, and no. I will not bother them. You have four friends, whether you will see that or not. Why are you sitting alone?"

"I need to figure this out."

"Let the team help you. The whole team, Richard- will you let us try?"

"Can't hurt," he said, and that was the most he would give. "Lokiis the Norse trickster god. He had three children with his wife, Sygin, who was oddly loyal. The kids were Jormungard, world snake, Fenrir or Fenris, the giant wolf, and Hel, the half-alive and half-decayed guardian of the Viking's version of the underworld. He caused the end of the world, joined the fight against the benevolent Viking gods, and was responsible for the death of Baldr. Baldr was the Norse god of love- he was killed by a sprig of mistletoe Loki tricked a blind beggar into throwing. For that crime, he was kept imprisoned below the ground with a snake dripping venom on his head."

There was silence as Rachel's monologue was processed. "You did some research, then?" Richard asked. He had found half that much information on the internet.

"I'm familiar with Norse mythology. I learned to read from it." She waited for a comment about the dark nature of the tales, glare stopping when no one did. "In short, I have no idea. Loki's tricks were common, and there is no one incident that sticks out. We should be ready for anyone- or anything."

"There has to be a way, to know for sure." Richard didn't want a vague warning.

"There may be, but it probably isn't legal." Rachel stood. "This is the time we usually go on patrol. Victor finished your communicator." That snapped him out of an introverted trance. "Let's get in uniform, Titans." Even without the mask, there was a line between Richard and Robin. He had been near it all day, but the sudden hardening of his eyes gave away the switch.

**.Obsession.  
**Something was wrong, after that night. Richard ignored Kori's best attempts at drawing him out of his shell, only growing surlier when she finally gave up and talked to Gar and Victor.

Sunday morning, he proclaimed himself too sick to patrol. He did not stay home that night after an impressive day-long exhibition of sickness. He left on some errand of his own that afternoon. That night, only four Titans patrolled when Richard reported that he couldn't rid himself of a pesky fever, producing a thermometer as the unneeded proof. They trusted their teammate, and if he wouldn't patrol, it was serious.

The next day, when M. Cooper's article again graced the headline of the _Forston Daily, _no one noticed. The _Forston Press _was delivered inside Forest Gates, and the headline on the _Daily _failed to catch Rachel's eye as she made her way to school Monday. _Research Lab Reports Break-in. _The byline was below the fold of the page, but was just as eye-catching- not very. _Culprit Left Only One Clue. _There was a picture, but the black-and-white paper couldn't show just how red the X was, left buried in a security lock, or how much it looked like a pair of birdarangs bonded together and painted red.

**.Miss.  
**"You missed a most excellent patrol, Richard," Kori said at lunch. "But I do hope you are fully recovered."

Richard made a show of thinking punctuated by a sickly cough. "Another day should do it- I don't want to make myself sicker." The odd concern for his physical well-being over a compulsion to just train harder was taken for a sign of maturity.

"You don't look so good." Rachel's comment would have been rude if it wasn't so true. He looked exhausted, like he had just completed the physical version of the hologym's most competitive level, and was barely touching his lunch.

"Maybe you should stay home completely, get some rest." Victor didn't know what was up, but Richard didn't' have any symptoms a fever couldn't leave. "Everyone else can meet at my place to get ready- we are going tonight?"

"Yes." Kori answered for everyone but Richard.

"That's probably better- I'll just repeat last night." Richard yawned. "I could use some sleep."

**.New Deception.  
**Richard was repeating the last night. Pillows stacked beneath a blanket in a careful arrangement covered his absence, along with a tape of occasional muttering. He was gone before Bruce could check a tie for a date with Talia, in uniform and ready to go out for a bit of extra recreation. There was a key difference between what he was doing and what the Titans were doing. He wasn't Robin, for the moment.

A few (stolen, naturally) components had created his second alter-ego. This suit wasn't for fighting crime the usual way. He would find the meaning of the Loki problem, one way or another. This was a way no one else would have to know about. It would be easier to act alone on this matter.

After breaking a window, he strolled into an electronics store. He ignored pricey items in fragile display cases all connected to the now snipped wire of the mainframe. He wanted the back room. That was harder to get into, but a few deft twists with a hairpin Talia had shed opened the door with a muted click. The best technology in the world failed to tried and true methods.

Inside an innocuous back room with a tan door, he found the cache. He picked out the items from a list his employer provided and a few other items, a finder's bonus. The last, a communication device with a tiny plasma television screen, activated when he touched it.

"You came through." The voice had less emotion that Rachel's. She was introverted. He was just scary. "Few promised thieves ever do."

"I keep my promise." Behind a full-face mask complete with a voice alteration system, Richard had his identity fully masked.

"I see- I have no use for a full-time part thief. Will odd jobs do?"

"If it moves me up in the system, yes. I don't want to be a sideline forever."

"You won't be, but you can hardly know everything after one teleconference of a meeting." The face on the telescreen was obscured in shadows, and the only visible feature was one eye. "I imagine you know who I am."

"Slade," he said, drawing out the word. He knew who his employer was.

"A good guess. You are-" Slade paused, providing an opening for a provided name.

"Just call me Red X."

"Red X. A new job will appear for you in a few days, on the screen of this communicator. Unless otherwise noted, make all drop-offs to the HIVE complex, in care of Brother Blood." The connection terminated. Red X was hired.


	20. Trouble

_For the people intended to criticize typos, please point out incidents I can fix. I know there have to be mistakes somewhere, but if I went through anywhere from three to five thousand words to catch all of them, it'd take me a week to post. So, that means that the occasional typo is a reassurance from my muse and me to show the divinity (divinities?) that be that I do not pretend to be perfect. Just ask dr.evil99- typos bug me (and him, but he tends to be more obsessive than I am- that's probably why his work's less likely to have mistakes strewn about the place). So, if you're mentioning them, tell me how to fix them._

_For people that still bemoan the lack of action, don't worry. Your time will come. Action scenes are harder than character/plot development, and I try to not rely on them too much. So, my author's note has become very long, but I think I've addressed all questions/comments/concerns. Just to remind people of a common note: don't worry. Calliope (that would be the muse I draw on occasionally, as I haven't found a more specific name) knows what's going on, and I know the outline. So, please just sit tight and wait. I'll get there eventually- for all who have figured out how monstrously long this story is, this chapter begins on October 8th.

* * *

_

**Chapter Twenty: Trouble

* * *

**

Richard was back to his usual self Tuesday. He spent only a few moments puzzling over Loki, and the rest of lunch explaining a passing allusion to an old television program to Kori. He led a new practice regiment, sparred against everyone, and was subtly rude to Talia. On patrol, he single-handedly took out one pair of graffiti artists whose tastes for spraying obscenities onto elementary schools was not appreciated.

It couldn't last. After patrol, when Angelina's was suggested, he checked a cell phone before refusing and leaving abruptly, taking his backpack from Victor's car. He didn't get a reason, other than he had something to do.

"Something is most certainly elevated with friend Richard," Kori said, watching the friend in question disappear around a corner.

"Yeah, something's up with him," Victor agreed. Her syntax was second nature to him, and she at least didn't have odd motives to try deciphering.

"Want to follow him?" Rachel asked.

"No. Whatever he is doing, it is not our wax taken from the bees of honey."

Rachel shrugged. "If you say so."

The Titans wouldn't have seen Richard, or even Robin. Red X had climbed into the car designated by the telescreen after a quick change. He followed the night's directions to the letters, except for leaving the communication unit a few blocks from his home. It never hurt to be careful when outsmarting a mastermind.

**.Suspicion.  
**"Richard." She had given up by the time he finally responded. She had been trying to get his attention for the past six minutes. By the time he interrupted his internal play-by-play of the previous night's after-hours action, Kori was doing homework, Rachel was reading another book with an actual picture on the cover, and Gar and Victor were debating who would win in a fight of aliens against trial lawyers.

"Kori?"

She took her time, adding her final remarks to an answer for a particularly nasty essay question for International Political Science before answering. He could wait an extra minute. "Yes, Richard?"

"Um- you were trying to get my attention."

"For six minutes, but you were previously occupied with thoughts you obviously consider more important than conversing with me. As all others are occupied, I am using my time in a manner that is constructive."

"I'm sorry, Kori. I was just thinking."

"About exactly who you went to visit last night?"

He nearly choked on his lunch. "What?"

"No, who. You had other clothing. The black sleeve was caught on my backpack zipper. As you had a change of clothes, I can only assume you wished to dress nicely for visiting someone." Her quiet speech had drawn the table's attention.

"That was just a work-out shirt, a nicer one I haven't used yet. There's a rip in the sleeve, courtesy of your zipper." He was being defensive, maybe, but it was a natural response to her sudden interrogation.

"So, you won't address why you missed a night of pizza? Angelina had a violinist in, one who played requests."

"No."

"That is your business, then." Kori only wished he didn't feel the need to keep secrets._ Maybe it's a good secret, _she reasoned. Richard did have a streak of something other than leadership and arrogance in him.

"Yes, it is." The team couldn't know. This was his campaign. He was the leader. It was his responsibility to find Loki.

"There is no need to be so defensive. I am not prying into your affairs that are personal."

He was ready to argue that it was best to not, but her attention was gone from him. She was again working on homework, looking ready to blast him to pieces. If looks could kill, she would have murdered him a minute ago. He glanced at her current problem. _"A small group of countries has an alliance. One secretly begins actions with a mutual enemy. What is the best response for the other nations, if conditions of their treaty best resemble NATO provisions?" _

He watched her write. She had neat script without any embellishments in the fort of dots or loops or spirals, quick writing that was readily legible. Her answer was well thought out, even in the quick pace she moved. She only paused occasionally, staring intensely at the pen she held as if it held the answer. Mistakes were crossed out with a neat single line, then disregarded.

Her closing argument convinced him that he had made the right decision. _If meetings of council do not provide a good motive for the secret actions, the nation acting alone must face reconciliatory actions. If concerns cannot be completely addressed, the nation must be expelled from the alliance. A betrayal of trust could undermine the entire nature of the treaty, and must be dealt with severely._ Even Kori knew his actions were better kept secret, even if she didn't know. He'd go into the gang for a time- like father, like son.

There was only one problem with his deduction. It was wrong. Other than that, it was a simple enough piece of immediate reaction based on reasoning.

**.East.  
**There were no new messages that night. There also wasn't a run to Angelina's. Instead, they were confronted by a girl in an ensemble of black and yellow. She looked them over, giving Cyborg an extra few seconds. "The name's Bee. I noticed that Titans can't be everywhere, and I want to start a franchise. I have a reference."

"Who?" Robin asked, just a little more hostile than necessary.

"Barbara Gordon- she lived down the street from me, growing up. She said where I'd probably find you guys tonight, and said to say that Oracle sent me."

That was a good enough reference. "A franchise as a one-woman job, or a team?"

"A team, once I find enough, to cover the east side of town. The Titans rarely get past Norway Boulevard."

"I know someone up might join. Look up the Nelson apartment complex, 4B on the second floor. I think Mia would be more than happy to help you," Cyborg offered. "I've never been lucky enough to see her in action, but she can do just about everything with a bow anyone's ever wanted to."

"That would bring me to four. The Hispanic twins next door were more or less sure they'd join up. They're pretty immature, but they're good fighters."She and the twinshad a mutual respect for each other, after years of fighting over anything that came to mind.

"We could use the aid," Kori said warmly. "Welcome, leader of the Titans to the East."

"Actually, I was thinking just Titans East. Thanks for the welcome, though."

"Call her." Richard had scrawled Selina's number on a scrap of paper found in a pocket. "She'll help with costuming. And good luck." There was no need to linger. Bee had everything taken care of.

"Cyborg, right?" she asked, a final question. Bee winked. "I'll see you around Forston High."

"Why would I be at Forston High?"

"It's the only legit high school, you're all not the type to drop out of school, and the papers call you the Teen Titans. I'll find you." She didn't have a mask. It would be easier for him to look, but she had slipped away with a memory of half his face.

"Do you know her?" Gar asked. Bee had been dropping hints left and right.

"No, but I have the feeling that I will."

**.Sting.  
**Forston High School had two different types of tables. The traditional bench style had been replaced by modernistic units with rows of circular plastic seats. The weary furnishings looked old before a single lunch period of rowdy teenagers and food fights, and only looked worse after two years. Rachel's chosen octagonal table had eight seats. Five were occupied. A visitor took the sixth seat, her towed guessed bringing their party to seven.

"Hey, Victor Stone- who knew?" She smiled, inviting him to join in. He did, recognizing her from a class two years back. "I'm Karen Beecher, but I go by Bee. I called Selina, and she already promised to get my alter-ego an outfit."

Just like that, Gar found a conversation ending. Bee's tail was quiet, a reserved girl who had yet to say a word. She tapped a much more outgoing friend on the shoulder before saying something inaudible to the rest.

"Leaving already? Mia, you could try being friendly. I know you don't know anyone here, but effort never hurts."

"I've met- Victor, is it?" Mia seemed almost detached from everything she had seen. She did not like crowds. "Jinx thought it was a shame you followed the law, but she's not mad. I talked to her last night, about my new gig as a Titan."

"Jinx?" Bee asked. "As in the pink-haired gang leader Jinx?"

"Yeah. I've- met her before, when the scene wasn't completely hostile." Victor did not want to get into an explanation of that.

Bee did not approve. "She's dangerous. No one forced her to join- her family came over from India, richer than anything. She's one of those really smart girls gone wrong, and the deadliest kind of cobra- she won't flare her hood until she's already bitten."

"And you're better?" Victor wasn't going to sit back and let a friend be insulted. Jinx was a friend, no matter what affiliations she had.

"I don't store venom. I'm not doing anything tonight; we're waiting for Selina on uniforms. She said Mia's would be a little time-consuming, but worth the wait."

Just like that, Victor lined up his first date in over a year. He took the opening with an afternoon movie he had read about, one with both explosions and some sort of plot between gun battles and car chases. In short, Bee approved.

Mia had disappeared. Bee and Victor were already talking electronic special effects. Kori was still trying to understand the popularity of false and misleading television of reality and the operas of soap, where no one sang and showers did not seem to focus on the correct use of the named hygiene item. Gar had one shot of not being bored for the next twelve minutes, even if Richard was blushing furiously at a few of Kori's innocent questions.

"Rachel?"

"Is what you have to say worth my time? I'd hate to waste a few more seconds of my life staring at you in condescension to prove your insistence on bothering me is a bad idea. I've already used effort and carbon dioxide. What else do you want?" She didn't look away from the book.

"I was going to ask what you were reading, but I could tell the joke Harry heard yesterday if you'd rather." He'd get through to her, maybe with a shred of his ego intact.

She didn't respond verbally, but did tilt her book to show a title and an author before going back to ignoring him.

_One last try. _"So, what did you think about the debate in biology?" In a perfect world, she'd set down the book for a few minutes and they'd have a friendly, meaningful conversation, punctuated by mutual smiles. The world wasn't perfect.

"I think that if that is you trying your hardest, you're better off talking to the table, or the linoleum, if you feel particularly adventurous."

Rachel wouldn't be talking to him. Victor and Bee had moved on to physics class. Kori had dismissed reality television as unworthy of her attention, and a flustered Richard was now fully focused on explaining the purpose of a soap opera. Well, at least he could watch the usually imperturbable leader's ears turn red when Kori mentioned a lady who wore very little black leather. Richard's attempt to explain exactly what a dominatrix was, take one- he just might have some fun after all.

**.Robbing Peter to pay Paul.  
**Richard was sick again. Bruce was out of town at an accounting seminar, and not happy about a side trip necessary for his day job. Richard assured his teammates that he would be fine alone. The instant he hung up the phone, his mask was on. Red X was ready to fight, and he had a few assignments for the night.

He passed four Titans. No one seemed to be acting as field leader. Cyborg called for backup in a tight spot, and Raven was there. Starfire and Beast Boy acted like a two-person team. When the Titans looked in danger of losing, they regrouped without warning. Raven, spotting Starfire, caught her teammate after a spectacular mid-air kick that the criminal would feel in the morning. Cyborg used just enough force in a southpaw kick to stop an opponent, and Beast Boy used a few punches Richard couldn't remember teaching him.

He wanted to join them as Starfire, still reveling in the fight, called the police. She laughed at some remark from Babs. Red X didn't, even when Starfire was kind enough to repeat the comment for all to hear. This identity didn't belong with the team. He had to go on alone.

It was better, being alone. He easily found the new location. By his careful reasoning, he was robbing Paul to save Peter's life, and probably Paul's. That wasn't quite how the saying went, but it was close enough to suit his purposes. Red X left a little extra damage- easily fixed, but the proprietor's insurance would pay. Red X didn't consider that a store in the parts of town he frequented couldn't get insurance.

He brought the night's order to the designated drop spot. He recognized the collector. Pink hair wasn't common, and Jinx despised imitations. According to rumor, her hair was natural. She yawned, leaning against thebleachers that Slade had mentioned outside of the HIVE's high school.

"You're the new guy, hm?" she asked, accepting his parcel. "Blood might see you next time. He's otherwise occupied."

"The plan?"

She gave him an appraising look. For a long moment, he was sure that she could see right through his mask, hear his voice through the best synthesizer two hands could steal. "Yes, the plan. You're Slade's man, so you do know that this alliance is temporary."

The mask hid any discomfort at being called 'Slade's man.' "Naturally. What isn't? I don't plan to stay a petty thief for long."

"The rate we've heard of new deliveries? You're the parts man, until you get a bigger job. You'll move up- right now, trust is being established."

"How much trust do you have?"

"Exactly as much as I deserve." Jinx left with that thought. She hadn't told him anything he hadn't known or guessed, but he felt he'd learned more about Red X. Jinx hadn't been suspicious, as far as he could tell. Victor's portrayal of a 'bad guy' must have been too shallow. He didn't Jinx had frowned at him throughout her speech, or that he had just broken several laws without a hint of remorse. There was a line between bad and good, and he had just dropped stolen goods all over it.

**.Who Moved My Car?.  
**Victor and Kori were soft-contact sparring, pulling punches and only tapping to simulate kicks. It was an exercise in control that required trust in the opponent. Richard noticed something that had been nagging, a small observation that led to a question he'd wanted to ask for a while. "Victor, you always pull back before fully extending your left leg." That wasn't just in sparring.

"Cybernetics. If the wrong spot gets hit, I don't want to wait for systems to reboot." He didn't dwell on any difficulty. "So, I keep the back of my knee covered."

Richard had nothing to say to that. It wasn't much of a weakness, and Victor had fixed it before Richard had known it existed. He hadn't given the team his full attention for days.

The call for the night was ignored. Red X wasn't available at the moment. He waited until the team was done for the night before leaving for the job, faking a limp as he slipped away with a bruised tendon. Red X would just be a little late.

Richard missed the night's real case of drama, when Victor noticed the parking meter outside Angelina's was red. Victor Stone's silver sports car wasn't exempt from tickets. Resigned to a fine from an exuberant meter-maid known to guard the area, he turned to look for the ticket on the windshield. He didn't see a windshield. For that matter, he didn't see a car.

He froze. He was barely aware of three teammates trying to console him. All he saw was an empty parking space. He dropped the backpack he had taken to carrying, still trying to catch up with reality. "My car is not in the parking space," he said slowly. Beneath a blank refusal to accept the statement, he was glad for the thirty-two bit sequence to activate the T-Car's special features. Who was paranoid now?

"I'll go talk to Angelina," Rachel said. She felt that the owner of the café would show her the video from a nearby surveillance camera, as she and the other Titans were loyal customers. The best thieves would need at least twelve seconds, for a car like Victor's.

"I'll ask around," Gar said before disappearing into a few crowds of peaceful loiterers that usually congregated outside of Angelina's. He lived in a very mediocre neighborhood bordering on bad, and never put on airs about rich friends. All but the grouchiest of neighbors would talk to him.

"I shall see if patrons in window booths noticed anything unusual," Kori said.

Victor stared at the empty parking space until someone pulled into it. He had found the car himself, a sad little after-note in a dealership that had fallen off the truck- literally. He had rebuilt her crushed hood, hiring out only for her paint job, and self-programmed all her extra features. She was one of a kind, and the one thing his parents could never find fault in. She was gone.

Rachel was back first, clutching a printout. "I have a picture, Victor. Two males, knit caps, one brunette and one blonde. That was five minutes ago. We can catch them- I'll rent a car from down the street."

"We don't know where they're going." Victor watched Gar and Kori return. No news was bad news, in this case.

"Actually, we do," Rachel said hesitantly. That was very bad news. Rachel didn't pull her punches often. "They both had Forston Derby shirts and passes."

He knew, but had to ask. It was the same fatal curiosity that led to picking at scabs. "Which logo?"

"Figure eight demolition speed fest." There was no use in drawing out the inevitable. "Save the disbelief for the car. We're leaving."

**.Car Trouble.  
**Rachel was driving. As she was in charge of the insurance, so it was only fair that she drove. The car she had found wasn't really a rental. For a few thousand dollars, she had a little car that would be able to take abuse if absolutely necessary.

Victor, riding shotgun, didn't have to say a word as Rachel navigated to the Forston Derby. She didn't enter the Spectators lot. That was too close to the many uniformed security guards that would easily get the wrong idea about their liberation of Victor's car. She didn't give a hint of her plan until she was in the competitor's lane. "I have an idea. Does anyone else feel that they could force a car to spin out without killing the occupant or doing more than a few scratches to the paint job?"

"Friend Rachel, what is this idea of yours?"

"I'll take that as a no. Simple. Someone scouts which heat Victor's car is in- that would be Kori and Gar- and then relays it to me, in case I can't find out the usual way. I do a bit of highly illegal driving, and will not explain why I know how to do this." Her father's priorities were hard to explain, but they could draw what conclusions they wished with her provided fabrications of a father in the FBI.

"What do we do?" Victor asked reasonably, convinced he would wake up any moment to find that he had fallen asleep in Angelina's.

"Kori and Gar stay in the crowd. They blend in, watch the races, and see how many people know about our target car." She stopped the vehicle. "You two get out here. Victor, you're my mechanic. The name for the race is Amy Epperson, just in case there's trouble in reclaiming Vic's car. I really don't want to get a record." She picked an arbitrary name, a skill that had taken a few lessons. Kori and Gar snuck through a gap in the fence. Rachel coasted to the lane monitor. She spoke first.

"I'm here to race. An old friend's running the sweet little silver sports car- hot vehicle, you know. I want to try my little car against his, and the mechs wanted a show-off."

Her explanation was usual. "Heat after this, fifty to enter, mechanics are in the blue pit area, and you'll have to sign a waiver. Anything standard on a car goes, and standards are judged by our list. Incendiaries are never allowed, we will press charges." His take of a tone was caused by too much repetition, not choice.

She signed a few waivers with a flash of ballpoint pen, paid the entrance fee, and looked like she knew exactly what she was doing. Victor had to ask, once the attendant had moved his attention to the next car. "Rachel, what is this plan?"

"You'll see. As soon as I claim the prize, you get into this car. No one's on the disapproved congratulatory list thrown in with the track's disclaimers. Kori and Gar can help us, if we need it. I doubt we will. The thieves won't want to hold onto stolen goods."

"That isn't very encouraging."

"You'll have your car back by the end of the night. How's that for encouragement?" She stopped the car. "See if you can find one of the thieves. The brunette was driving." She wouldn't say what she was going to do, but he had a few uneasy ideas from her earlier comments that didn't bode well for his finish.

The races had been going on, and trashed cars and paramedics kept coming out. Rachel had a very simple plan for her chosen car, a cheap domestic with steel sides not built to crumple. She had an almost fully outside lane, not good for this race. It was perfect to see the sports car on her right, the same side as the junk car exit and ambulance entrance.

She didn't complete a full lap. She lagged, nearly grinding bumpers with a familiar silver car, and began shooting ahead as they rounded a turn. The motion she made with the wheel had taken practice. She directed her car, while moving, to the bumper would point at the other's right wheel, to spin him to the right.

The spinout went just as planned. All cars behind had gotten out of the way, and Victor's car pinwheeled through the gap with only a few surface scratches. She followed, and offered her heartfelt condolences to the driver and a rushed offer to exchange insurance information. He fidgeted. Sheextended a change of cars and signed on the dotted line. He couldn't accept fast enough, and zoomed back into the race.

"Rachel, you let him get away."

"No, I sent him into a race with a car two miles from breakdown- I found a lemon on purpose. The salesman used a bit of sawdust in the oil." She waited a full minute for the sound of a crash. "The sawdust wears off," she continued nonchalantly, "especially in a hot engine. All crashes need paperwork. I left a few sets of registration in the glove compartment. He's not going anywhere."

"Rachel, you are a brilliantly evil genius, and I know every day that I'm very lucky to not be on your bad side." Distracted for a crucial few moments, he looked back to his car. It was pulling away, a very short driver at the wheel. _No way- he can't have figured it out. He hates Cyborg, not some rich kid named Victor- _Stone.

The car's path would bring it straight into a brick wall, so it was moving in a slow circle. The turning aids had been heavily damaged, calibration thrown off with careless handling. The two thieves hadn't known how the car responded, and it would take hours of fine-tuning to get his baby back.

Gizmo had a cashbox in the passenger seat. He had been making a few illicit deals, and Victor's car was a getaway vehicle. Gizmo couldn't leave with the car. If Gizmo found the registration papers- he could find Victor, or his friends, at any time. There was one thing over a clear exit to the highway, a direct connection for ambulances with its own acceleration lane- a billboard for the Forston Dragway, supported by cables secured in a sloppy hitch knot two feet to his left.

"He'd not leaving in that car," he remarked casually as he began to untie the knot, trying to not realize what he was going to do. "Do you know any trustworthy mechanics?"

"Gar's foster father has partial rental on a garage. The owner stays home now, to take care of her husband, and the only other guy to borrow space just comes in on Tuesdays." Rachel remembered Harry's speech. She always remembered details. Something just might be useful.

"Yeah, I've met Harry. I had no idea he was a car man." Victor was holding the billboard back from falling, with aid from the pulley system already in place. This way the end was expected. That didn't mean he would enjoy this.

He let go. The sign fell. Victor heard crumpling metal and winced even before a sudden uprising of police officers and their shrill whistles. Gizmo slipped away, forgetting a cash box. Victor could hardly pursue him, as three officers were staring at him. Cyborg worked with the police. Victor Stone did not, and he was twice the size of two officers and six inches taller than the other fellow.

Rachel stepped forward, thankfully getting a less hostile reception. "Thank you for coming, officers, but everything is under control. The carjackers are still inside, and the other was a short bald male. We followed them here after the two inside stole his car from outside Angelina's Pizzerina. The bald guy was an opportunist."

Her sensible speech was easy to validate. "Bede, go check credentials. If they're true, and this gentleman can produce an ID that matches registration for the VIN, cuff the two fellows they found inside." The officer considered, listening to a radio. "Actually, cuff them first- they're causing a ruckus. And, miss, do you know how that sign fell?"

Rachel had lied to her closest friends. Lying to a cop was easy. "No, not at all," she said, looking at the sign with wide-open violet eyes. "It certainly looks heavy. We got here when the thief was pulling away, and the sign crushed most of the car. It'll take real effort, to fix that mess." A few lies, but mentioning the weight of the sign and damages done was intentional. The lit billboard weighed more than Victor, and who would drop a sign on his own car?

Victor watched, not registering most of the action. He produced his driver's license. The Derby hired a crew to move the sign, and Rachel called a tow truck and gave the address of the garage. He remembered the sound of crumpling metal, and just how hard it would be to fix the car. Victor would do it alone. As much as he liked Harry, Vic would fix his own car. He-

"Victor." Rachel's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Are you going to want some help, with your car?"

"You would help?" He didn't know who else she would volunteer.

"Yes. I'll be at your house at seven A.M. The garage isn't far away." It was set. She took care of explanations to Gar and Kori while he filled out an incident report. He couldn't picture Rachel as a mechanic, but she seemed to live to surprise people- how many girls know the bus schedule by memory? Her odd explanation of "never knowing when you'd need it" was more confusing than explanatory, and he letsleeping dogs lie. He had enough trouble on his hands without asking for more.


	21. The Best Laid Plans

_There is a lot going on this chapter that will be referenced to, as part of the AU's past. Leave a question, if you don't understand some part of the plot. To clear up a few matters right now, many characters in this chapter are from the Batman universe. A few parts of the past are the same, many more are switched around- even Batman canon fans can't rely fully on previous knowledge. As for the timeline, this is set in the near future, but a reference is made to a certain event in San Francisco, when Mayor Gavin Newsom allowed same-sex marriage certificates to be offered in 2003. It can be assumed that the event happened a little over two years before the events of this story begin. Parts of the plot were helped through by dr.evil99, who should be posting for _The Paragon of Animals _soon. (Isn't that right, doc?) So, here's chapter twenty-one. I don't own any copyrighted characters mentioned. For the perpetually fretting, don't worry- Kori's past is coming up fast (within the next few chapters), and she isn't ignored. Constructive criticism/comments/flames/worship/etc. will be read and adored- thank you very much for reading, please review, and enjoy.

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**Chapter Twenty-One: The Best Laid Plans

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** Rachel was kind enough to take care of the details for the repairs Victor's car would need. She hired a section of the garage through Harry, including access to tools. No one else but Harry would be in the garage, and he had his own projects to do- he'd help if they asked, and leave them alone if there weren't unnecessary sparks flying around. Victor knew that Rachel had matters taken care of. He didn't expect a mint condition 1982 Ford Mustang, SSP version, to pull into the driveway at seven A.M. 

"Victor! Back seat's yours- Rachel came to my place at the garage, to make sure the tow truck didn't bang up your car any more than it was. No one else is in, today- George is on a needed vacation with his family, safely out of town, and the place is ours. It probably was a bit extreme of me to say we'd be doing almost all welding, but it guarantees he'll keep out. He hates the torches. Rachel let me know that your car has a few extra features- the shop will probably have everything stocked, but a few parts might need to be adapted." Harry was a morning person, and there wasn't coffee in sight.

Rachel followed the easy conversation, as Victor bragged about his "baby" to an appreciative car buff. Rachel couldn't make heads or tails of the conversation, but the occasional phrases traded back and forth almost made sense. She could understand fluid coolers, rotor shields, and alternators. Phrases such as "hypereutectic pistons" made mush less sense. She understood how pistons worked in an engine, but had never heard "hypereutectic" in conversation.

"Gar up yet?" Victor asked.

At least she could follow that part of the conversation. "Well, yes, but he went off with Shelia," Harry said awkwardly. "He had a previous commitment."

"At the hospital, right?" Rachel didn't need to wait for Harry to answer. The man was undoubtedly talented, but lying wasn't a skill he had perfected. "He had to tell someone on the team, and I'm the unofficial medic. When will he be done with his appointment?"

"Usually, he's in for about four hours- so about eleven o' clock, an hour to noon." Gar had mentioned that someone on the team knew, but hadn't gone into details.

She nodded, storing the information. "No patrol for him until after seven. That's our deal. Victor, were you replacing or revamping the engine? I don't know how much you can salvage- the auto guys lifted it out last night, to save us a bit of labor." The conversation was fully back into car talk, and she was back into understanding one word in twenty.

The garage was familiar from a few liked lessons- fast car repair. She started with the easiest of jobs, in her opinion: rolling out a new hood and adding supports to a steady roof, just in case. A few extra trusses along the bottom of the hood wouldn't hurt, either. Seeing her work on the hood, she was delegated to creating a new bumper. The last one would be an interesting piece of modern art, if it hadn't already been left to the scrap pile.

Three people were needed for some jobs, like repositioning an engine that had been almost completely redone. The sign had landed to the side, luckily, but a few components had been ruined beyond repair. The trio quickly developed a simple system, and the car slowly began to look like it belonged in the junk heap out behind the shop. The hard jobs were finished first, leaving small tasks like buffing out oil pans and checking brake lines.

Harry left them alone for the last job. Harry delivered the newly conditioned Mustang after a careful test drive to make sure the suspension was just right. Rachel helped with the final tasks, putting new wheel covers on. The paint had been redone with a quick-dry tint, and new wheels would make the car look just different enough to hopefully not draw attention from Gizmo. They doubted he would care about the car, but it never hurt to be safe. Rachel juggled two wrenches and a handful of lug nuts, very aware of the motor oil smudged across her cheek. That didn't matter. She had something to fix, and the car looked absolutely beautiful.

He finished the last of the nuts with no great ceremony, instead taking a key from his pocket and hoping. With a smooth turn of the wrist, the car purred to life. Victor couldn't stop a relieved smile, and didn't want to. "She's back, and just listen to her- the ratcheting noise is gone." No one else may have noticed, but it bothered him. He would have to reprogram her internal computers for the next few days, but that didn't matter. His baby was back to life.

Rachel smiled. He was too elated to process the dramatic curvature of her lips, or the fact that she looked like Wednesday Adams. It wasn't quite natural to her yet, but she almost had the idea. Instead, he had an offer.

"Six thirty- let's go to Bruce's and show her off."

"What else would we do? She's beautiful, and I have a few pictures of the wreck to prove it." She hadn't told Victor, guessing the issue would be sensitive, but the images would now be points of pride. His baby had survived a very nasty accident. "Then we can patrol with her- I'm in the mood for a fight."

**.Ringed Circus.**  
Talia was nagging about some promised date, Garfield was trying to get Kori to give up trying to get Richard to snap out of some funk, Rachel and Victor's triumphant arrival wasn't noticed, and the basement was already bedlam when Drs. Harleen Quinzel and Pamela Isley arrived.

"Rachel, your stitches can come out today, I believe," Pamela said calmly, ignoring Talia's current pouting spat. For a pouting woman, Talia was very loud. "Would you prefer to use your own room?"

"Yes, that would be fine," Rachel returned, just as serenely as her biology teacher.

Harleen occupied herself by finding Gar. "You're an interesting case. I don't think you're crazy, but all people could use a few discussions with a licensed psychiatrist. Off the record, no charge- you'd be interesting. Most of my patients are just your average run-of-the-mill clinically insane psychopaths."

"Um- okay."

"I work at Arkham," she explained. "Incarceration for the Insane and Criminal. You do have to be both to get in- it's the jail version of the funny farm. What do you think? I'm very good at stress relief, and I can promise that I've heard weirder."

"Sure." His doctor had been bothering him about getting a psychiatrist of some sort, and the hospital's resident shrink was rumored to be a gossip. "What time?"

"Call me Harley."

"Wh- what?" She made less sense than he did.

"You were thinking 'Dr. Quinzel.' That makes me sound older than I am, or at least stodgy. Harleen's not much better. I have no idea what condition my parents were suffering from, coming up with a name like that to stick in front of Quinzel. How about Tuesdays?"

"Tuesdays are fine."

"I'm glad that we have that settled. Anyone with half the stress you deal with could use a bit of therapy, and I'll be happy to provide it." Dr. Quinzel- Harley, he supposed- shook his hand. He was going to tell Victor about the odd offer, but Talia's voice had just shot up an octave. Nails on a chalkboard had nothing on this woman when she was mad. Sadly, Talia always seemed mad about something.

"You're always trying to figure out Jack Napier! That joker is _dead, _Bruce." The screech killed all other conversations. Even Richard broken out of his trance to pay attention.

"Yes, but I need to know the why of it," Bruce said reasonably for what must have been the hundredth time.

"Why are _you_ trying to find out about Jack?" Harley demanded.

"Talia says she knows Slade did it, but that's all she can give me. I want to try to figure out the crime wave that started then. Slade got an idea, after Jack died, and I want to find the reason to try and figure out what Slade is planning now." Bruce had to raise his voice, a very rare occurrence. Batman could quiet a criminal with a glare. Bruce Wayne could break hysterics in a client with a single look. Neither would work in this mess.

"Why does that bitch keep track of what happened to Jack? Everyone knows that she and her daddy ignore any crime." Harley went from happy-go-lucky to angry in seconds, when it concerned any mention of Jack Napier.

"What? You want a _pumpkin_ for Halloween?"

Bruce didn't understand why one of the words, or maybe the phrase, made Harley go quiet. A quiet Harley was something he had never seen before, and Bruce had a very bad feeling about this. He had mentioned Halloween before, but 'pumpkin' hardly seemed to be an incendiary.

"No, but not having to deal with you would be a great improvement," Harley growled. The voice was very far from her usual squeak of a voice frequently interrupted by laughter. Bruce and four Titans took a careful step back.

"You never were brave without some deranged loser at your side- except that said lose was always in front of you," Talia sneered.

The audience of five very confused heroes didn't know what would have happened if Rachel and Pamela hadn't emerged at the moment. Rachel was stretching, making sure that there was no lingering soreness, and Pam was looking from Talia to Harley. Pamela was the first to speak- she had seen that look on Harley's face once, and that had been enough.

"What is going on?" Pamela asked in her best intimidating teacher voice.

"That bitch brought up Jack," Harley snapped.

"Little Harlequin didn't take the loss well," Talia said with a false simper.

"I just tried to find out what happened to Jack," Bruce said hopelessly. The Dark Knight persona had retreated from the quickly escalating catfight, leaving Bruce on his own.

"Jack Napier? What's the question?" Pam asked.

"Talia knows Slade killed him, but not why. If I can find a motive, I might be able to solve another few incidents and figure out the current pattern." Bruce tried his best to remain with strict logic.

"Talia, who told you that Slade killed Napier?" Pam asked, tone casual.

"I- heard it, somewhere." Talia knew her answer wasn't convincing. "He missed an important appointment, and everyone knew Jack had to be dead. He was insane, but punctual."

"He missed an appointment with you and your father," Pam reminded Talia. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but Slade had nothing to do with Napier's death."

Talia blew past the accusation. She'd get rid of all suspicion at once, with a quick direct attack. "Who told you that bit of poison- a plant, Ivy?"

"Talia, I'm impressed. I haven't gone by that since before I had my Ph.D. And a plant told me that he was undoubtedly dead, but not that someone had killed him." Pam was being just as logical as Bruce, but he didn't understand what she was implying.

Rachel had less of an idea about what was going on than her friends. She and Pam had heard the loudening fight, and Pam had rushed through the last few rows of stitches. As she explained very quickly as she pulled out stitches even faster, Harley didn't get angry often. When she did, things could get dangerous.

"Who did kill Napier, then?" Bruce asked.

Pam had a simple answer. "I did."

"Pamela!"

"Pam?"

"Dr. Isley?"

"Pammy?"

"Well, the bastard deserved it." Pam wasn't repentant. "Harley, remember that time I asked you if you'd ever want to go back to him?"

"Yes."

"It happened the day after that. Napier came by with a gun and a few bad intentions. I saw him, decided there was no need to wake you up, and left to check on my moonrise glories. I used a lovely pair of darts, completely herbal and harvested from living plants that are still thriving in my greenhouse. It's a lovely poison- deadly, silent, and excruciatingly painful for a few seconds."

"Napier is definitely dead? There's never been a single hint. Oracle's been humoring me by scanning the networks for two years."

"Babs went through all the trouble? You should have asked. Of course there aren't any hints, Bruce. I'm not sloppy. He's fertilizing my begonia hybrids. They like soil rich in iron, and any residue he's left only helped the odd little things."

"You can't just kill people, Pamela," Bruce said, convinced that he would wake up any moment now from a very weird dream.

"Like you've been a model of virtue," Pam challenged.

"That was long ago. I've reformed."

"Napier would have killed me and Harley, and Arkham has never managed to hold him. You want time to digest? I'm off. You can call me next week, or whenever you want to talk."

"You really killed Jack." Harley ignored Talia. She wanted to sort things out with Pam before dealing with a very annoying acquaintance.

"Yes."

Harley grinned. "Wish you'd told me, Ivy. I wouldn't have minded taking a shot at him. He was madder than anything, when I dumped him, but he'd gotten past ruthless."

Pam considered. "You could spade the area. My begonias took all the calcium through some chemical reaction of their roots to whatever Bruce got him with all those years ago, but his hair left some nasty residue. It's just helped the flowers, though."

"The pink ones?"

"The pink ones. You know, by the pond?" Pam said something else, but the two were already at the front door. He needed time to adjust, but she guessed that he would be fine.

Bruce remembered details. He would see the big picture given enough points, but could always recall the smaller portions. "Talia, you and Ra's were supposed to meet Napier the day you left a gala for a hospital visit." The small pieces assembled into something a little larger, still a fraction of what was happening.

"Bruce, you wouldn't believe a murderer."

"She has less to lose, and I know for a fact that Pam's a horrible liar. I trust her, as you've proven that you lied for years. Goodbye, Talia. The code will change in five minutes." Bruce had no patience for liars, and Talia had been pushing for an engagement and the end of Batman. He wouldn't give up his mantle.

"Bruce, you're overreacting," Talia said too quickly, seeing an end in sight.

"You dealt with Napier, Talia. Where Napier went, Wilson made sure he wasn't being double-crossed. If I can't trust you to tell me the truth about who knocked Napier off, I can't trust you at all."

"Can you trust me with Batman?"

"Not really, but I'll have to. We're on a break, Talia. In three months, if I regret my decision, I'll call you. If not- who'd believe some accountant is Batman?"

Bruce took Talia's abrupt departure as an agreement to the terms. The front door slammed just before the elevator opened. Babs rolled forward, and tried to figure out what was going on. She hadn't found a single clue in the net of electronic and physical spies she had around the city. "Somebody explain."

"Bruce finally dumped Talia."

"That's because Talia didn't give him the whole truth about Jack Napier's death-"

"Because Slade didn't kill the joker."

"Dr. Isley did."

"She was here with Harley, and wasn't happy to hear Talia give credit to Slade Wilson."

Oracle was used to getting too much information in one go, but not from five teenagers. "Pamela killed Napier?"

"Yes, and Talia lied." Bruce wasn't shocked, and that surprised him.

"Of course Talia liked. If Wilson had killed his partner in retaliation for a real or imagined offense, he would have let everyone know. It makes sense, that Pam killed Napier. Harleen has the best claim, after all that he did, but Pam's a very close second."

"Just because Napier tailed Harley around? I'm Harleen's friend, too."

"Bruce, trust me," Oracle said. "Pam and Harley are way closer than you'll ever be."

"You mean-" Small pieces observed over the past two years suddenly made sense. "Well, I certainly feel like an idiot."

"As you should, Monsieur Detective. They haven't hid anything. They just didn't explicitly say anything because neither of them wants a fuss. You're the most conservative in their circle of friends, Bruce, and you are known for being stodgy. If you give them any grief, I'll personally pound you." Barbara, glaring regally from her wheelchair, still was formidable.

"I wouldn't. Harley's improved in her choices for a significant relationship."

"Yes, she has." Babs smiled fondly. "They visited San Fran, when Gavin Newsom bent the rules. Remember that, the whole marriage fiasco? The certificate's on the wall, among their collection of diplomas. The diplomas alone take up half of Pam's study, but the certificate's the only thing with a good frame."

"Why am I always the last to know these things?"

"Because you can be a judgmental bastard, and no one felt like trying to guess your reaction. I wish Pam had let me know about Napier, though. I'm sure she did a fine job. I'll send a card," Babs decided. "I doubt it'll be from Hallmark. The occasionof thanks-for-killing-the-bastard really isn't covered often, and a generic thank-you card won't be enough. Maybe I'll get her a plant- Harley would know what she's been looking for."

"Only Wilson's left," Bruce growled, voice slipping into registers usually reserved for Batman. He ignored the remarks about the card for now- this wasn't the time for jokes.

"You won't have any advantage. You'll lose. Badly. Besides, Napier was responsible."

"Slade watched."

"You think I don't _know?_" Barbara snapped. "Bruce, get over yourself. This did not involve my old job, okay? That was an attack on Barbara Gordon, because her dad was fixing up the police department. This wasn't an insult aimed at Batman."

"I could-"

"I will take care of myself. I have a ground-floor apartment, a steady job, a very nice private martial arts class, and a boyfriend. Yes, Bruce, he is none of your business."

"Barbara-"

"Don't 'Barbara' me. Yes, the date with Jason was a mistake, but nothing happened." She knew he'd fight that. "Okay, so he ended up with a broken nose, but nothing happened to me. That's when the police station decided that I could be a cop, even if I was a commissioner's daughter. I'm fine, Bruce. I'm all grown up. Oracle isn't a little girl."

"No, she isn't." He had to agree, and he saw the chance to make sure they parted on good terms. Both of them were too good at holding grudges. "I am glad that Pam got him. I hope whoever takes care of Wilson gives him a few extra knocks."

A conflict the Titans couldn't follow was over. "I'm not here for a social call. Slade has a new accomplice. Slade Wilson hired a free-lance thief known only as Red X. The low-down sneak started in the small items, carry-out burglaries in electronics and the like. He's mostly causing mischief, but Slade wants a few of those parts."

"Has he fought at all?" Rachel asked.

"Not that I've seen. I'm running a mainframe search, but I'm getting nothing. His voice has to be a synth, but it's a good one. There are too many scramblers, so my database is out. No prints, no hints- he doesn't want glory except for his Red X self."

"Are we sure he's male?" Gar asked.

"Yes, but a very good question. It never pays to make assumptions. The most I can get from the recordings is that the criminal is young, male, and not a smoker."

"Does he follow a pattern?"

"I don't have enough data to run a pattern regression yet, Victor- I've tried."

"Does the thief always steal objects that are small?" Kori asked.

"Yes, always something that he can carry out. He works alone, but takes assignments. His last drop was to Jinx, the HIVE's most promising fighter and leader. If she's stepping in for Blood, this new guy's a big deal."

Richard noticed everyone was waiting for his question. He usually had something constructive to add, but not today. "Do you have any suspects?"

"Not really. I've run checks on the likeliest who fit in the right body size. Todd's still in Arkham, all villains without name recognition don't stick out as likely, and I don't think he's from the HIVE. I have nothing on him yet, but I hope to change that."

"We'll get him," Rachel said. "I don't like any pet apprentice of Slade's."

"I share the dislike. Thieves have no honor." Kori sometimes didn't look at all like an innocent teenager. She looked fully alien, determined and ready to fight.

"Thieves stole my car."

"We'll find him some night, and he'll regret it." Gar had seen the effects of theft first-hand, and it was never good.

"Yeah," Richard agreed belatedly. "Look out, Red X. The Titans will fight you."

**.Plans.  
**"You're sure you'll be fine?"

"For the last time, yes." To prove her point, Rachel touched her toes and rolled into a handspring. "See? Healed."

"So, even covert backup will be greeted with an 'accidental' kick." Victor knew the fretting of the rest of the team would do no good. She was back to her usual self, and didn't take help well.

"Yes, but it won't be accidental at all. I'm off painkillers. All I have is a little stiffness before my warm-up stretches, which I've done." She was a little slower than usual, but she was recovered enough to fight.

"Is everyone ready for a practice run in the hologym?" Richard asked. A selection of nods confirmed the statement. "We can try the museum- a practice for Red X. Don't break anything, subdue the virtual criminal. We don't have a clue about how he fights, so I'll set that control on random."

"Actually, I think we should call up Eve." Victor knew that without a few hints, they couldn't practice very effectively. "That way, we're right there if Red X strikes."

Richard had to agree. He couldn't do anything else without giving a few key facts away. If he was quieter than usual in the car, even after entering Eve's office, his teammates guessed he was puzzling out the identity of Red X. He didn't know how to keep his secret safe, but he would manage. He had to.

"No one has a hint just yet." Eve skipped formalities, as always. "Red X is new. We only caught word of him this quickly because of Oracle."

"And I only found him checking something for Batman, an obscure lead on an odd cross-reference. Red X is subtle, but I have a full search in progress. I know enough to find him, whenever he's out." Barbara was listening in on the conversation, and left the front desk to a rookie on loan from another station. Babs was famous for breaking in desk officers within a week.

"Do you want the Titans to go after him?" Cyborg asked. He was surprised that Robin wasn't grilling the chief for details, but maybe this was a secondary obsession.

"We just might ask you," Eve admitted. "The station hates to send anyone after a wild card, but he's a costumed. Batman has a few villains of his own to fight- Harvey's out of prison again."

"We will help you get the thief." Starfire barely noticed sentence structure- sometimes it was right, sometimes it was odd. Her friends didn't mind either way.

"That's what we're here for, right?" Beast Boy was completely at home with his falsely green face.

"He's new to Forston. We'll be careful." Raven had expected one of Robin's lame I'm-the-good-guy lines. He hadn't said a word.

"Robin?" Starfire prompted.

"Yeah, we'll get Red X." He followed the rest of the discussion. Red X was an unpredictable variable, but everyone else was confident in the Titans. _Maybe they shouldn't be._


	22. Often Go Awry

_The titles for the last two chapters were taken from a famous couplet from Robert Burns's "To a Mouse"- _The best laid plans_ of mice and men/_ often go awry_. It's a nice poem, and the unused four words are a favorite book of mine. Canon is a set of beliefs or, in comic books, facts about characters that are accepted as true. As of last chapter, reviews on this story passed_ In the Bleak December, _number wise. Thanks again to any and all who have reviewed for any story- see? Feedback junkies aren't picky. Regarding a recent comment about a favored story of mine outside this genre (Medusa) - I don't consider myself a Teen Titans writer. I'm a fanfic writer fond of working with those characters, until I have the experience to develop my own. Concepts helped by dr.evil99, and a quick note: if you have an idea of where the plot was going, beyond what is explicitly stated, and wish to prove your aptitude at guessing plot twists, go ahead and e-mail me. I try not to be predictable, but you never know._

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Often Go Awry  
**Richard Grayson was home with a fever again Monday. Bruce sent in the note excusing his nephew from school before apologetically leaving for a scheduled appointment. Richard kept up his invalid act all day, trying to puzzle out daytime television while eating canned soup that he'd managed to prepare.

That night, he expressed his regrets at being too unwell to patrol. The worst part was Kori's happiness that he was mature enough to not "lower his well-being." As soon as Bruce left for a second meeting, only at Richard's continued insistence, the costume left the closet. Red X had a job tonight, and he meant to keep his secret.

It started out like any other night. Nights where Richard was too sick to attend were just common enough that the Titans suspected a second person on the team with a medical condition. No one was a default replacement leader. Raven held the office for the first stop, Cyborg and Starfire shared command for a drug deal, and Beast Boy orchestrated an ambush of a few people adding crude graffiti to a school.

Barbara's voice was clear through Victor's latest model of the communicator. "Titans, I found Red X. He's heading for Forston High School, specifically the biology lab. Police cruisers will be outside in twenty minutes, and they'll go in silently. He went in through the west entrance, and missed a few hidden cameras that I operate. The school's security system is useless- he took it out."

"We're on it." Victor had already made the turn. "We'll be in the lab in three minutes, as a few speed laws are nothing on this."

"When we meet Slade's new pet thief, we need a strategy. How about- Kori and Gar front the attack, Vic and I are rear guard?" Kori was strong, and Rachel knew that Kori and Gar's fighting styles complemented each other. Rachel was still slowed down a fraction by a sore back, and Victor was more power than speed.

They agreed, discussing specific tactics during specific scenarios for the rest of the short ride. They'd never fought Red X, so they would have to assess his fighting style and react. They would manage. They just wished they had a fifth member of the team. Red X sounded like their toughest opponent yet, and they were down a teammate.

No remaining Titan had a tried-and-truly-bad starting line to draw on a spur-of-the-moment bad pun. The four Titans just had a unison cry as they attacked from behind, four voices determined to confuse the thief for one precious second. "Titans, go!"

He had known they were coming. A blurring set of punches and kicks hit the two most forward Titans. Starfire kept fighting, covering as Beast Boy fell back to favor his left arm. Raven replaced him almost instantly, making sure that Starfire wasn't alone in facing the villain.

Red X was too fast. He knocked Starfire into a stack of buckets while she drew her fist back for a punch, after he found a flaw in her balance. The opening let him force Raven into a quick salvo of blows, and he waited for her to spin in self-defense to avoid a feinted kick to her head. A pair of punches to still-sensitive areas of her back made the pain flare up, and she lost precious moments in regaining control. Red X sent Beast Boy tumbling into a stack of boxes.

Cyborg couldn't let him get away. Red X had taken out three quarters of a very good team without much effort. He made a kick that just mightbreak a bone or three, ignoring his usual reserve. Kori was fighting her way back up over the buckets, and needed a minute. He didn't know what happened, exactly. Either Red X was too fast, or Victor was too slow. Red X kicked him just behind the knee, and Victor know he was in trouble. He landed hard. Someone else would have to take over.

Raven ignored earlier hits, but she didn't see the display above her head. Red X did, and he also saw a few critical supports. For a second, Raven thought he had missed- the next moment, a model of a plant cell fell, and she was pinned. Raven fell in such a way that she inadvertently tripped Starfire, who bowled into Beast Boy in a horrible parody of dominoes. Red X was gone before the police could reach the room. Four heroes were driven back to the station, an officer driving the T-Car.

Barbara was furious. She made sure that Kori was just disoriented, and that a prominent black eye was just a bruise. Barbara had a few good tips for hair. A horrible hair day would draw attention and let her cover the eye. Kori was just as mad as Babs, and knew that Red X would be hard pressed to beat her a second time.

Gar had a shifted scab and scattered cuts from landing on a half-unpacked box of test tubes. Rachel knew, and Barbara understood, what chemotherapy could do to a person. Babs had found a few records in a search of the hospital, and her aunt had been through breast cancer. Rachel was only sore, and had been surprised by the attack. Barbara knew Raven would be fine. Barbara had seen Rachel's expression in her own mirror many times, after Batgirl took off the mask for the night. The small amounts of blood wouldn't slow her down, and Rachel was ready for the needed compensation.

Victor was very unhappily in a wheelchair, for a few minutes at least. A loose circuit board, the flaw that had never been fixed after his parents' last argument, had snapped. He would have to fix it. Barbara bought him time, connecting wires in a fix that would work for casual use. Victor wouldn't be fighting until he had time to fix the leg.

"Now, it's personal." Raven did not like losing to anyone, especially Slade's minion.

"Perhaps next time, when friend Richard is with us, we will prevail." Kori didn't express her anger just yet. She'd save that for Red X, not vent at her friends.

"He's going down." Gar would be rid of his current sensitivity quickly.

"Leg or not, next time I won't be an easy shot." Victor was already imagining a little addition for the next person to go for a soon-to-be-ex vulnerable spot.

"I'll help you out." Barbara was just as determined. "Any friend of Slade's an enemy of mine. I have his style, from surveillance and your accounts. The low-down cheater has had some classical training, and I'm running a profile on everyone in Forston."

**.Recuperation.  
**Victor had pulled an all-nighter. He didn't study. He adjusted delicate surgery, and added a few new additions. Hearing design plans, Bruce was happy to provide the parts he needed. Victor felt a little off-balance, but would adapt to the new weight.

Kori had a particularly spectacular bad hair day. She had (mostly) ignored Connie's teasing. She let Rachel examine a black eye. Kori claimed that 'black eye' was a misleading term. Rachel had to agree, with the dark sunrise right in front of her.

Gar was back to normal. The soreness was gone with the most basic of pain medication, and his left arm was again usable. He was close to ambidextrous, but his handwriting was a little more legible with his left hand. Chemo always left a concentrated sore spot, and blood meant a chance of infection in a recovering immune system. The extra cuts didn't help matters at all, and only increased the risk of getting sick. He was under stern orders from Shelia to be careful.

Rachel recovered the fastest from the melancholy mood, a residue from the previous night. She gave a brief account of the events to Richard, who easily grasped how the battle had gone. He had arrived after Kori let Rachel make sure there was no real damage. Rachel knew the easiest tests for a concussion- the eyes. Reaction to light and the sizes of the pupils were dead giveaways.

"Next time, I'll be there," Richard promised. _I had to do it, to make sure Slade isn't suspicious. None of you would understand, but I made sure that no one was hurt too badly- Victor could have told me, what would happen with his leg. _"You guys didn't come out too badly, though," he said, echoing a thought.

Victor was the first to form a response, and spoke slowly to make sure Richard understood. "Yes, we did. One guy found all our weak spots. Gar's on extra antibiotics because Red X knocked a scab and caused quite a few open cuts, Kori's lucky to not have a concussion, the guy went for Rachel's back, and I had to be wheeled into the station. Barbara would happily tear Red X limb from limb- she does not want to see anyone suddenly need a wheelchair. It took me a whole night to reboot my leg, and it still isn't working exactly right. My parents are divorced, don't work together, and even if they did, there is no way to explain this."

"Friend Richard, you were not there. You would not understand." Kori lacked her usual gentleness. She didn't take explanations of how 'badly' she did well.

"I'm heading home. I have homework to finish after school, and I'm not stopping for business today. Everyone needs the day off." Gar brought out his biology book to prove his point, glancing over the selection of essay topics.

"I'm fine-tuning my leg after school."

"I have a few things to take care of."

"I also must decline to train, as I have other mundane activities I would prefer to complete today."

Four Titans were comparing ideas about some concept Richard couldn't follow, a new battle plan based on a few phrases they had coined without him. They were mad at him, and didn't take the chance to explain. _Fine. I'm doing the right thing for me; you do the right thing for you. I'll find Loki on my own._

**.Resurgence.  
**Red X struck again that Tuesday night. Five quiet teenagers left a somber mood intact for minutes. Bee was a rare visitor, mercurial in appearance, and avoided the morose group. Rachel, oddly enough, was the one who broke the silence.

"I can't go tonight." If she would admit to that, it was serious. "I'm too stiff, and I got hit on a few key muscles. I need the time for a full stretch-out." Red X was still loose, but she would lose again if she faced him that night.

"I could use a break," Gar acknowledged.

"Perhaps we could all break together tonight, instead of apart," Kori suggested. "We all could use stretches."

"I'm game." Victor had finished the hardwiring, but his timing was still off.

"I'll do some actual training. Someone needs to." Was this their reaction to losing to a villain? They gave up?

"Richard, I thought you had made progress in understanding. You have been sick, lately. Perhaps this has swayed your judgment." The chance was there for the taking.

"No, Kori, I just- want to help out the team. Maybe I don't want that to happen again, with Red X." The truth, however distorted. _I'm helping save Forston. They just need to practice, if one man can beat them. _

"Bruce mentioned that he knew someone who knows stretching routines." Rachel remembered the mention. "We could ask him to make a call."

"One of Bruce's friends?" Victor shrugged. "Well, a friend of his is crazy, unexpected, or stodgy."

**.Revival.  
**Selina Kyle was unexpected. Allegations against her sanity had yet to be filed, and she was far from stodgy. She glanced around the basement after greeting Bruce, wary of what could be lurking in the shadows.

"You've seen the place before, Selina," Bruce said, trying to guess her motive and failing miserably. Some things were beyond detective work.

"The mayor's brat isn't here?"

"No. Ra's and Talia were scheduled to meet Napier, at least once. Napier was dead at the time, thanks to Pamela." He tried to surprise her. It didn't work.

"You believe that _now?_ Of course Ra's was dealing with Napier. Now, he deals with Slade. If he could get in contact, he and his precious Talia would deal with Trigon. Pammy told me about Napier two years ago." Selina had offered a few reliable places to fence a few possessions of Napier's Pamela wanted to be rid of.

"Why does everyone know things before me?"

"Because you don't want to hear most of it, so you don't believe the messenger," Selina admonished. "I'm here for the limbering up- who am I dealing with?" She looked around a second time, taking in faces instead of scanning for Talia. "Bruce still is too high and mighty for my stretches, four Titans, and Richard, by the scowl on your face, is a full Wayne. Too bad- Grayson believed in her stretches."

That made Richard set the hologym visor aside. No one said much about his mother.

Selina didn't wait for him to ask. "She taught me a few stretches, when I looked into acrobatics as a possible career. I found other uses flexibility and balance," she said delicately, with the primness of a schoolmarm.

"Other uses my mask- go ahead, tell them about your career." Bruce could hardly forget his sometimes-adversary of the good old days, as he thought of them sometimes.

"Cat burglar," she announced. "Known as Catwoman, due to some unimaginative reporter- I made the mask to fit. Well, the costume was pretty suggestive, I did have the right career, and he's lucky it wasn't 'Kitten.' That would have earned him a face-to-face encounter I would have made sure he didn't enjoy."

"You were a thief?" Richard asked.

She smiled, completely Cheshire. "A damn good one, yes. I stole from everyone in Trigon's employ worth my time, and a few of the hoity-toity museums and rich folk that helped the gang along. The fool places kept putting up feline-related displays and bragging about security. Selina Kyle, fashion student, scoped out displays, and Catwoman's tidy little profit paid for fashion school."

"So, you would be good at stretches." Catwoman had stolen from Rachel's home before. Rachel didn't miss the ornate sculptures her father had taken from somewhere. Luckily, as far as she knew, the burglar hadn't noticed a purple-haired child watching the theft.

"One of the best. Everyone gets their own few. Kori's first," Selina decided. Kori caught onto the patterns quickly. Selina complimented a nicely executed bad-hair day, and, when gifted with a glance, postulated the bruise would be gone by the end of the night.

Gar was next. A very quiet exchange took only a few seconds. Selina nodded, taking another few moments to consider the exact information and how it could change. She spent a longer time with him, impressed to hear nutrition plans, and gave a few different sets for different circumstances- he understood, and that was enough. Bruce watched her, wondering how she already had Gar's trust.

Gar had told her whatever secret he kept. Kori liked everyone until she was given a reason not to. Victor had met her before, through his mother. Richard liked Selina. Rachel looked much happier with a cat burglar than a fashion designer, but maybe he had just missed her signs of something like friendliness during the last encounter.

Rachel accepted help, from Selina. They borrowed an alcove, and Selina gently prodded at the puffiest of scars. Selina knew what stretches to prescribe, and demonstrated gentle ways to improve flexibility and build up resistance against struggled muscles. Selina had never had as many knife wounds, but even the best of burglars is almost-caught some time.

Selina was less personal with Victor and Richard. Victor's set was about balance, and Richard had the second-hardest routine she knew. Richard doubted what she studied in addition to martial arts was worth the time of day. He'd learn, when he couldn't get halfway through the first rotation of motions.

"Selina, why do people like you?" Bruce realized that the question could be taken badly a few seconds after he said it.

She didn't take any offense. "I'm not nearly as scary as you like to be. They're good kids, Bruce. You need to work on your people skills."

"I have friends. I had a steady girlfriend for four years."

"You don't know your few friends very well, and Talia snooped. She tried to break into Oracle's computer here, not that you believed Barbara when she told you. Twice."

"Okay, so I didn't get it for a little while."

"It's not that. You've never dated someone who didn't want to pry Batman's secrets out of you. You've never even gone on a casual event."

"No, I haven't, except for a few very dim bulbs."

"Want to come with me? Friday night, I go to a weekend conference, and I need someone to save me from the throngs of people who don't look above the neck. Free food- what do you say?"

"No, I couldn't leave for a full weekend." That wouldn't work. She was waiting. "The Titans- they were pretty bad off Monday, from Slade's new pet. He knocked Kori pretty good, punched Gar on the sore arm, kicked Rachel so hard that she admitted she was sore, and messed up Vic's leg." That was a better explanation.

"So, the five of them could use a break. So could you, Bruce." Selina was patient. Bruce was hard to deal with, but she held out hope that he would be worth the effort.

"Nowhere in this town is somewhere they could relax." He didn't understand her point.

"Not in Forston, Bruce- in Cairo."

"_Egypt? _Selina-"

"No, Bruce, not Egypt. Cairo- as in my place three hours southwest of here. I have a full staff used to odd groups using the house with a minimum heads-up. Five teenagers they can handle, after Pam and Harleen borrowed the place for a week. Harley ran around psychoanalyzing people in her Harlequin outfit, and Pam started screaming at the gardener when he tried to prune the roses."

"You wouldn't mind?" Bruce asked.

"Not at all, and I doubt they would. I have my own movie theatre, heated indoor pool, an outdoor pool for the brave, and the ocean's close to my backyard, even if it is far too chilly in October for all but the insane. Would you accompany me to Los Angeles?"

"If the Titans are gone, I'm watching for Red X. I can't leave Forston alone."

"Not even for a day and a half? All you'd lose is Friday's patrol. I'd get you back on time."

"No. One missed patrol could be all it takes. You know that, Selina."

"I only wish you didn't, Bruce." She didn't try any of her usual tactics, those suggestive bits of banter that had made Batman blush beneath the mask. She only looked at him with those big brown eyes he had first seen framed by a mask, and walked away. He wished she had tried her usual flirtations, so he could make promises he would never keep. At least then he knew what to say to her.

Kori was the one to confront him the next day. The previous night, he had retreated to the Batmobile before anyone could react. "Bruce, why did Selina seem most saddened?" she asked.

"She mentioned some silly dinner or other in L.A., before she told all of you about her place. I said I wasn't going. She wouldn't see logic." Bruce was just glad the Titans hadn't heard that particular conversation. Kori had an uncanny knack for making him feel horrible about his decisions.

"She requested your presence as a friend?"

"Yes. Basically, she wanted someone to scare away the lechers at a fashion conference or other."

"That isn't it." Kori was always direct on matters involving relationships. When she didn't pause to think too much, her English was much more clear.

"What is this 'it' that all women know of?" Bruce asked, frustrated and a little more loudly than he meant to. He drew a few extra eyes.

"She wanted a friend to go with her. If she just wants to prove forward words are not necessary, she could have asked any one of many fashion designers, photographers, or models who would have wanted to be seen with Selina Kyle, fashion designer. You would be with Selina."

Kori's perception made him uneasy. She embraced all emotions, instead of ignoring them. "We met in a bad way. I was in an admittedly crude batsuit. She was wearing tight purple leather and carrying a whip." Kori might not know the connotations of that statement- her face didn't change. "The next time we met, she had a new uniform for me. I believe her exact phrasing was that the suit was a present for letting her get away, and to make sure no one arrested me for wearing such an ugly and ill-fitting outfit." She had gotten away, again, after the barest bantering, but Kori probably knew that.

"She is no longer a cat-burglar?"

"Occasionally I'll hear interviews from guards about a beautiful woman getting past them. For the most part, she's clean."

"But you do not wish to accompany a good friend on a short journey."

"No, I don't."

"If Red X steals again, he will be much more covert. You are ineffectively using excuses."

"What would you suggest?" he asked, wondering why in the world he was still listening.

"Go with her, or at least tell her the real reason why you won't go."

"You have all the other answers. Why am I not going?" He wanted to know. How sad was that?

"You are not going to Los Angeles because you are not comfortable with your relationship with Selina, and are nervous about it becoming something more meaningful. I think you like her, like you couldn't like Talia."

**.Polarity.  
**"Kori, I don't know what you said, but Bruce didn't even blink when we ordered in." Richard hadn't seen his uncle so moody since what must have been the weeks after the full obsession with Napier started.

"Usually he warns about the upholstery." Victor understood. His own no-food-in-the-car rule was strictly enforced.

"I only asked him why he was refusing to go with Selina. I could have asked why he insists on hiding his obvious attraction for Ms. Kyle, but I was lenient," Kori said, accepting a carton of tofu Chinese from Gar and mixing it with her chicken with snow peas and steak kow. Once blended, she doused the concoction in mustard. She liked Chinese food, even if the English spelling of the words was something she could never get right.

Richard nearly lost his steak in a spit take. "What?" A napkin saved him from making a mess.

"He likes Selina, and Selina likes him," Kori explained before using chopsticks and getting more than a single piece of food. That had taken practice, but little kids learn the fastest. Everyone else was content with silverware, but she was just as deft with two cheap sticks of pine.

"Where did you hear that?" Richard didn't know who would say such a thing.

"I didn't hear it. I saw it." Kori's suspicions had only been confirmed by Bruce's abrupt departure.

"Saw what?" Richard didn't get it.

Rachel was balancing a weighty textbook and her portion of the order, which, of course, included a cup of tea. "Kori is the best of us at gauging facial expressions, emotions, and actions. Besides, Selina has never asked before, by his reaction. I doubt she coincidentally asked after Talia was gone."

"It could have been a coincidence." Richard had made a point to not notice Talia for a few years. Selina did seem less likely to fly into a tantrum, but Bruce didn't seem the dating type.

"Coincidences are rare." Rachel, deciding that she was tired of the idea, ignored the rest of the conversation.

"Selina and Bruce? He's a stick in the mud. She's a world-famous designer. Accountants and celebrities don't go together." Richard wasn't sure exactly why he opposed the idea so strongly.

"Opposites attract," Victor said. "Besides, she'd loosen him up a little. Everyone has their opposite. If you end up like someone with you, it doesn't work well."

"What happened?" Kori guessed there was a story.

"I dated a soccer jock, for a while. She had about the same level of temper I did, which meant that nothing ever happened. We broke it off after a week out of pure boredom."

"Oh." Kori didn't say she was sorry. Victor looked fully recovered. "You believe Selina and Bruce would be a good couple?"

"I'd think so. She'd force him to remember that criminals are people, too."

"He knows that, and opposites will only end up at each other's throats," Richard snapped. The unconcealed malice in the response stopped that line of conversation. By the time he figured out that he actually wanted Kori to fight him on that point, he was left out of the conversation. "I'm tired," he announced. He couldn't very well say he was going home, when they were in his basement. "I'm off to my room."

He left without a glance at Kori, earning a scathing look from three others. Kori only decided to stop by later. By then, he might be calm and ready to listen.

**.Midnight Talk.  
**"Richard?" She didn't hear snoring, but Bruce had mentioned that there was one snorer in the house. "Richard, will you at least pretend to listen?" Through the ajar window, she saw a sleeping form huddled in blankets facing away from her.

"I wish to speak with you," she tried, a final effort. He had been away from the others for an hour. Maybe he was a deep sleeper. "Must I talk at you?" It appeared so. "Richard, I think you overreacted today. I wish we could discuss why, but you are ignoring me.

"I won't talk any louder, or throw a rock at you just to get a reaction. But, I will promise that I'll be here for you, if you ever wish to speak with me. Good night, Richard."

Red X, half out of costume, slipped through the window and into the room twenty minutes later. He was one theft closer to finding Loki- and one third of an hour away from reassuring a friend.


	23. Viscosity

_Viscosity is a physics term that measures resistance to flowing, to explain this chapter's title. Starfire fans, this is for you- Kori finally talks about her past. She doesn't want to, and it was hard to get her to talk- you'll see. To clear up additional questions, a kick in the wrong spot shorted a few circuits in Victor's mechanical leg. Victor lost his left leg above the knee in a car accident when he was fourteen. He was able to fix the robotics, and the leg's now water-, kick- and rabbit-proof. You never know, after all. Thanks for noticing a few typos, Kayasuri-n, and I regret to inform you that Lynch can't appear in this story- I just may find her a spot somewhere else. There are other scenes, besides Kori giving a bit of background. A few were improved through random conversation with dr.evil99, and I hope everyone enjoys a few that I like. Review, please- warm fuzzies all around, okay?_

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Viscosity  
**Rachel looked doubtfully into the trunk of Victor's car. She then looked from her duffel bag to the small gap left amid four larger pieces of luggage. Her reservations about staying in Selina's house aside, she didn't picture her bag fitting.

"Want any help?" Gar knew the answer to if she needed help from many other attempts.

"Not particularly, but you can try."

He accepted an offered bag, and promptly came close to dropping it. The bag was far heavier than it looked. "What's in here, Rachel? Rocks?" Her bag was compact, but still weighed twice as much as his. It was at least a quarter of his body weight.

"All the better for throwing at you, but no. I have enough books to last the weekend. Selina said we were free to do as we saw fit, preferably leaving the house intact, and I plan to relax."

He judged the area, flipping her bag and sliding it in with very little force. The weight of the luggage let it fall into place. "Richard's pulling his sick card to get shotgun, and Kori called a window seat. Do you want the other?"

"That would make it easier to read," she allowed. He was being nice again. He would be nice enough that she would become irritated with the unaccustomed attention and snap at him. He'd joke it off, she'd rip on him (again), he'd stay quiet for a while, and then he'd be nice again. Anyone else would have given up, but he seemed determined to annoy her into smiling.

"What's your book for the car?" he asked. The longest he had seen her with the same book was three days for _War and Peace, _not counting the nasty old mildew-drenched book she brought out occasionally.

"_Anna Karenina, _and I'll read something a little more modern once we get there." The car trip was three hours long, and she estimated that Tolstoy's large work would last her.

"Shakespeare?" he joked.

"Tolkien," she returned. His quick response was almost funny, not that he had to know.

"Good old J.R.R. I'm doing the biology essay trio. It's not due for a week, but the Titans might be busy."

"That's true." She wasn't paying more than the barest attention, already absorbed in her novel. He glanced over her shoulder at the book, rising on tip-toes. _All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way._ Well, it wasn't as dark as her usual choices.

Garfield left to help Victor pack up the GameStation. Selina had hinted her indoor theatre had a port. Maybe he wouldn't get her to smile this weekend, but he'd try. The last thing to pack would be Kori's swimsuit, which she had forgotten. She stuck it in the side of her suitcase before finding the last of the Titans.

"Richard! I saw your baggage and thought you were present."

"I went for a walk, Kori. Is that a crime?" Red X had made a very quick and very ambitious daylight robbery. Richard would be set for the weekend.

She faltered. She never was sure if she was saying the right thing. "I apologize. You obviously desire no company. I shall give you your space."

"You couldn't understand, Kori. You're Little Miss Sunshine and Rainbows. You wouldn't know a problem if it bit you in the arm."

Her shaky smile disappeared into a thin-lipped frown. "As you wish, Richard. You may deal with your problems alone. _Nasikitika._"

She was gone before he could ask for a translation. His cell phone could access the internet. A few quick searches found the meaning and origin of the word- I am sorry. _Swahili? What does that have to do with anything?_

**.Road Trip.  
**Long car rides took practice. Gar had crossed the country by bus five times, and once by car. California had shifted him to the Massachusetts foster care system a few times to go to a different hospital, and the eastern state wasn't about to keep a very expensive ward. He used a spiral bound notebook, pen, and a textbook, neatly balanced to not jab anyone in the leg. He was set.

Victor was driving. Looking at directions and driving was difficult. Richard was brooding, so Vic handed Gar the directions. Rachel would not be pleased with an interruption, and Kori would want a few explanations for every direction she gave. Kori was also busy staring out the window, pointedly refusing to notice Richard's continual glances in her direction. Victor didn't know what had happened, but he wasn't going to be involved. Rachel was doing the same, focusing only on her book.

By the time the off-duty T-Car reached a winding driveway, the car's occupants had only said a few words. Most of the conversation was Victor confirming directions, Gar asking Kori about a calculus problem, and Rachel finishing _Anna Karenina _as the car rolled through the driveway.

"Has anyone ever told you that it takes eight seconds for you to read two pages?"

"No. Has anyone ever told you that you really could stand to develop a hobby?"

"Many times. Hey Victor, are we there yet?"

"We will be in fifty feet, Gar." The parking spaces were clearly marked. "Welcome to Cairo, everyone."

"Good. When's dinner?" The question was Richard's. Kori was still ignoring him, so she told Victor the answer. This could be an odd weekend.

**.Dinner is Served.  
**Rachel was the last to retrieve her luggage, but did get a room that was more than desirable. The window looked over the forest on the borders instead of the gardens. Rachel preferred the wildness of it, different than Forest Gates. As suggested by Selina, she had packed something a little nicer than casual jeans. Black slacks and a gray sweater dragged from a neat stack in her immaculate closet made her outfit.

She found the dining room easily, as promised. Five chairs were set at a six-person table. Victor had claimed the chair at the head of the table, letting him stretch out a cybernetic leg, and Richard and Kori were seated beside each other. They were ignoring each other, and constantly disproving it by continually glancing at each other. Rachel took one of two empty seats.

Gar was uncharacteristically late, and uncharacteristically uncomfortable in a button-down dress shirt and khakis. He only glanced at the table settings before he was even less pleased with the entire ordeal. He counted six forks, five spoons, three knives, and a few pieces of cutlery he had never encountered before.

"Work from the outside in. The silverware towards the center of the table, above the plate, is for dessert. The servers will remove anything that will not be needed for the next course."

She had leaned close to share the information. By the time he processed her guidelines, she was spreading a cloth napkin across her lap with a neat flick and sipping from a goblet of water.

"Thanks, Rachel," he said anyway, however belated. She ignored him, and the opportunity to make a sarcastic gibe.

By the time appetizers were prepared and part of a post-salad third course, the Titans had finally broken the ice. The entrée course could have presented problems, but a vegan selection was in front of Gar before he could ask the staff. Selina's staff was a collection of four or five people who all seemed to have unrelated jobs, but all knew their way around a dining table.

The dessert was taken away when it was clear that no one would make any more headway in consuming it. Victor was first to comment. "Who's ready for swimming?"

"No swimming for half an hour after you eat- what did your mother teach you?" Gar asked. He remembered that rule from a few weeks in Africa. It was just as important as not swimming in any body of water inhabited by crocodiles.

Victor considered. "That's enough time to change into swimsuits and get to the pool."

"I doubt I'll join you."

"Come on, Rachel. At least put on a suit," Gar coaxed. "Team relaxation weekend, remember? It's not a team when one of us is missing."

Kori had put aside her anger at Richard. He was just being his usual self, and that was easily forgiven. She just wished that he could open up a little bit. "Will you come, friend Rachel? Swimming will be wonderful, even if water of chlorine does not taste pleasing. There are no snails." Kori was serious. A few varieties of snails in Africa could cause death, if the unwary swimmer found one with a bare foot. At least crocodiles could be seen, and attempts could be made to fight them away.

"Rachel, you don't have to get in the water, but at least change. A cannonball competition would ruin anything but a swimsuit." Victor appealed to reason, as usual. Reason sometimes worked.

"Are you game, Rachel?"

Four people just as obstinate as she could be were staring at her. "Fine. That doesn't mean I'm going in the water."

**.Marco.  
**She didn't. She brought a towel, but showed no signs of shedding an oversized t-shirt borrowed from Kori. The bright images on the shirt made it clear she hadn't bought it. Kori hadn't, either. It was a present from a roaming paternal grandmother, who sent gifts from port towns. The shirt made an ideal cover-up, as no one cared if chlorine bleached the very large shirt that would probably fit a small whale.

She knew the peace of reclining in a plastic lounge chair, borrowed towel rolled into a pillow, wouldn't last. She savored the quiet relaxation while it lasted. Vic beat Gar and Richard in a cannonball contest, as expected. She could have told them that. Simply physics meant that Victor would displace the most water, both in mass and weight.

Kori was showing Richard how to make her kind of dive. Rachel had to try listening to hear Kori's impact with the water. Victor was taking a few minutes to make sure his leg was as waterproof as originally guessed. That left Gar free to bother her.

"Rachel, are you coming in?"

"To the pool? No."

"Marco Polo's no fun."

"Isn't that a game for little kids?" Her tone wouldn't freeze the chlorinated water. That was her version of being nice.

"Usually. It's funnier with big kids, and I didn't get a good chance at the usual age. Hospitals don't have pools." He was still smiling, unbelievably, and skirted his past easily.

"Why can't you play with four?"

"Kori swims like a fish, and Richard's already discouraged. Victor wouldn't play with just three people, if Richard gives up."

"I don't want to swim."

"If you really don't want to, I won't bother you for too long."

He was annoying her by being nice again, but she wasn't in the mood to snap at anyone. No one had to know, if she had a little fun. He was irritating, but going into the pool didn't mean she lost some private battle. That was a silly thought. "Just one round," she said. He had already been ready to walk away. For the first time, she let herself notice how angular she was.

"Really?" He had expected she would refuse, but had not wanted to leave her out.

"Don't push it," she grumbled, self-consciously fingering the hem of the very orange over-shirt. He had turned back to face her, and she was oddly nervous.

A few long moments passed. "You could just jump in with that on," he offered.

"No. Turn around- I don't like being stared at." By glaring, she could make sure that she didn't blush.

He did, and turned red enough for the both of them. She was already in the pool before he thought of moving, safely under the water. She left quite a few ripples, but not much of a splash. The water distorted everything below her neck, but he could tell that her solid black bathing suit was a one-piece with a racing back. He never had guessed her as the bikini type. She didn't try drawing attention of that kind.

Kori didn't seem to care at all, by her suit. Gar had snickered at Richard's expression, when Kori's amethyst two-piece suit showed more than Starfire's uniform ever had. As he and Victor had informed their friend, he looked like he had just been hit by a semi-truck. Richard hadn't even noticed the comment.

Rachel quickly forgot her rule of one round only, and Gar didn't remind her. She never did smile, but she didn't frown or glower. She adopted a neutral expression- progress, however little of it.

Gar was Marco for a few minutes, the longest stint. They had been playing for at least an hour, and everyone knew a few new tricks. Fish out of water had quickly been banned, but there were a few more evasive tactics no one would expect. Gar went forward on instinct alone, and felt raised scars beneath his fingers. His eyes snapped open, and found hair that looked black while drenched.

"Rachel?"

"I'm Marco now. I know."

"No, but your back-"

She had been neck-deep in the water for the entire time, even in the shallower sections of the massive pool. "It's nothing." By that time, she had drawn the attention she had been avoiding. "Just a few healed scars, a little present from Adonis. Nothing infected, no interesting colors, just scars that are still a little raised. They'll be white lines when they're healed, according to Pamela."

"You don't need to hide your scars, friend Rachel." Kori glanced at her own arm, running a hand over the tiny scars no one else had been close enough to notice for years.

"I don't want this. I don't need the attention."

Victor drew back to reason- she'd balk at anything else. "Your scars, your business- as long as they aren't putting blood in the water." Crude, perhaps, but the lack of sentiment reassured her. He left for one of the two lanes in the pool reserved for swimming laps.

"I will show Richard how to perfect the dives," Kori said, dragging him towards the deeper end of the pool. After a few mouthfuls of chlorine, he stopped trying to protest.

Gar hadn't said anything, and wasn't meeting her eyes. Rachel sighed. She'd have to deal with this nonsense again, it seemed. "Gar, are you still blaming yourself? I thought we were over this."

"I still feel like it was my fault, even a little. I was supposed to be framed for this."

"You were supposed to be framed, Gar. You didn't do it. Someone wanted me dead," she said evenly. "You were the likeliest target, as you had enough medications for the work to be somewhat subtle. Adonis wasn't out to get you, according to his backer, but was more than happy to see something bad happen to you."

"Slade was behind this somehow, from what Bruce said. He has reasons to dislike the Titans, and I guess he especially doesn't like you."

_Trusting, loyal, friendly idiot._ "Yes, he does," she agreed. "This is your second warning. The next time I hear nonsense about you being responsible for anything but saving my life, I am going to get your mind off of such matters in the most efficient way I know how."

"I'm just glad I was there in time. I keep seeing that last part in my dreams, with everything in black and grey and red. If I'd just been two minutes later, I don't know what I'd do. I should have-"

He came up sputtering. "You dunked me!"

"Yes, I did," she agreed.

"You held me under."

"For a second, yes. That certainly took your mind off the entire Beast incident, so I refuse to feel guilty about what I did." She might feel guilty, a little, but she ignored that inconvenient feeling.

"I won't bring it up if you tell me what that book is, the one you bring out every time you have a bad day."

He was as bad as Kori, for noticing details like that. "The _Book of Azar _is a meditation tool, and that's all you need to know." That little piece of information was more than she had given before, and might just be enough to get a better idea about Rachel Roth.

**.Polo.  
**Rachel left quickly after that. Victor was second to go, after thoroughly exhausting himself. Gar was the next person to give up on swimming for the night. Richard and Kori were still chattering while they toweled off. Kori did the vast majority of the talking, but Richard was filling in the blanks of the conversation.

"Richard, why are you so disbelieving in opposites?" she asked.

_Not this again. _He supposed any male could feel an attraction to someone as unrepentantly and unselfishly beautiful as Kori Anders. The only problem was that she would never feel the same way for him. She spoke mostly with Gar, and those two seemed to have something going on.

"Richard?" He hadn't answered.

"Why are you so optimistic all the time?" He was close to snarling, but he didn't care a whit. It wasn't fair at all. "My mother was just like you, happy and always smiling. She was smiling when she left, that last time. She always had a beatific smile on her face when she left, but that time I knew she wouldn't return."

"I will not leave, Richard."

"Yes, you will. Happy types are all alike, always ready to move on and get over everything bad that's ever happened to you. I bet nothing bad has ever happened to you." The accusation was ridiculous, but so was the idea of someone so perpetually happy.

"You would lose money, if the bet was of a monetary sort." Huddled in a borrowed oversized towel, she was vulnerable.

He couldn't drop the bluster. It was his defense against letting her know why her smiles always made his mood change so drastically, and why her frowns were worse on his emotional equilibrium. "What was so bad?"

Kori caught his gaze, green trapping blue. "You really want to hear? I'll tell you, if you do."

Her intensity unnerved him. "I do."

"Get out of your wet things. I'll be in the sitting room in five minutes, and I don't know how long it will take, to tell my story."

**.Nyotamoto.  
**"Kori?" he asked. He found her before she called back to him. Coiled in a blanket, she claimed an old armchair. He took a nearby seat, unsure of how close he should be in a room full of chairs.

"It wasn't too long ago, and it didn't start out badly. It's a story all its own, but I won't tell about a portion. I don't remember much of it." She rubbed her right arm, and the room's dim lighting showed shadows of indents. They were small and marched along the places veins lurked below the skin, rows and rows of hypodermic needles from years ago.

"Do you want me to turn the lights up first?" he asked.

She nodded, feeling unaccountably like a little girl about to listen to a scary story.

"Is this a story that begins with once upon a time?"

He'd asked so gently that she almost forgot who he tried to be so often. He wasn't bluster and defiance all the way through, and would prove it when no one else was watching. "Perhaps, except that my version never does. I feel like it could be some other little girl, and talking about her is easier, sometimes."

"Richard wouldn't mind if the story was in third person, if it made you feel better."

She had a tiny smile. "Thank you. Kori finds that annoying, but for this story, she thinks that it's easier." There didn't need to be any more delays, so she started without further preamble.

_When Kori Anders was eleven, she was in Kenya, just outside of Nairobi. Her eleventh birthday was celebrated on a transatlantic flight with her family. She would miss friends in Peru, but the Anders family would be going to Mexico soon. That meant that she already knew the language, except for a few discrepancies in local phrases. The best way to describe the differing languages was like an American walking through England. The language was the same, but the idioms and accents are different._

_Connie fit in with the permanent missionary's daughters. The twins were two years older. In the unconsciously cruel way of children, they included Kori only to watch her be bored to literal tears by discussions of movie stars and the modern culture a missionary's child is always years behind in. The difference between fourteen and twelve was permissible, but eleven was too far away._

_Kori learned a little of Swahili on the plane and journey to the new post, but not enough to converse with anyone to come to the mission. Wandering alone would be idiotic, but she could go into the mission's fenced garden. The garden was home to several delicate plants that local cattle decimated. The fence had broken last night, as Kori discovered. About to turn and go back, she saw someone herding cattle out of their garden._

_The cow-herd was a patient warrior of the Masai, in his first year of becoming one of the Moran, or warriors. White paste still clung to his eyelashes, showing his young age. The spear he carried marked him as a warrior. He might be only a few years older than her, but he was already an adult._

"_Je unasema Kiingerza?" she asked hopefully. Not many of the Masai spoke English, but it was worth a try._

"_Hapana," he answered. No one in his tribe spoke the language of the invading people. He didn't need to ask if she spoke Swahili after her halting recitation. He pointed to the garden, then gestured to the cows. "Nasikitika. Jina lako ninani?"_

_She understood that question. "Kori Anders."_

"_Koriand'r?"_

_That was close enough. "Ndiyo. Je lako ninani?"_

_She couldn't understand what he said. His accent was heavy, and she wasn't familiar with names. After a few stuttering attempts, she stopped trying. "Nasikitika. Kenya-" She didn't know what to add about the local accent._

"_Ken," he compromised. He put a harder accent on the vowel, but she could pronounce that name easily. He succeeded in flocking recalcitrant cattle, and nodded gravely. The expression was mimicked from the missionaries still occasionally sent to the Masai. The Mzee, their elders, of their tribe always sent away the foreigners politely, without listening to promises. "Kwaheri, Koriand'r."_

"_Kwaheri." Goodbye. She watched him leave, part of a culture she didn't understand. She didn't expect that part of the Masai herd would graze so close to the mission again- or that she'd meet one of the usually aloof Masai a second time. She had been nothing less than shocked when he returned, and nothing less than overjoyed to have a friend._

_It was more than words adequately describe, that wonderful pair of months. Mornings were spent in chores, afternoons in lessons, dinner was at sunset, and no one understood why the lonely child was so happy. After everyone was asleep, Ken would make some sign in one of many animal impressions and Kori would slip out. Connie watched through the darkness, envious and furious and cautious and supporting all at once. _

_Kori absorbed Swahili while dispensing English, and ignored parents' concerns about her habit of sleeping during lessons. She learned a little of the Masai, as much as halting language would allow, and spoke in other languages and demonstrated the ways other cultures sounded. He thought Chinese was like seeing a zebra roar, if she had the meanings right. _

_He slowly brought her farther and farther away from the mission at night, when she had the endurance to go farther and the courage to slip close to a sleeping herd of prey animals. She had never felt safer. He had killed a lion before, and knew what to fear. That did not include crocodiles lazing at the water's edge, lazy from a recent meal._

_All good things end. Some simply end worse than others. One night, long after Kori had returned from a late-night safari cut short by rumblings of cars in the distance. Kori woke to a strange man in the room she shared with Connie. A needle stung her arm, and the only sound she had time to make was a choked scream. Her sister didn't have enough warning to do anything but try to kick an assailant, but six against one half-asleep girl was no match at all._

"Kori." He coaxed her into moving to the couch, draping a second blanket over her shoulders and cautiously touching her hair. "You don't have to tell me," he said, surprised when she leaned against him and relaxed at the slight contact.

"I have to finish," she said, refusing to back down. "I will, Richard, but I will skip a little more than seven weeks, after the _wachawi _made an after-midnight raid. Wizards, bad witch doctors, scientists- take your pick. They had all manners of skin tones and accents."

"Skip ahead to wherever you need to." His arm wrapped around her shoulders before he could think, and she leaned closer. She took a deep breath, picturing the last part of her story. She had to tell all of it, so someone knew. Someone had to know.

"The tent was not very secure. Forces from the United States Embassy, armed troops, broke in and found Connie. She changed, in those weeks- she either gained malice or lost something of herself. I still don't know. She is now the best manipulator I have ever seen. Even then, before she had much practice, the soldiers left only with her. She blames me, for what happened, so she left me there." Third person wasn't needed. Kori would finish her story.

"I was alone for- I don't know how long, except that it felt like forever. It was about four days. I remember hearing noise, and someone yelling in Swahili, the words that meant Starfire. Ken called me that, when I was fascinated by something as simple as a gazelle and watched like it was something no one had ever seen before. I finally could make out the exact syllables when the person was just twenty feet away. _Nyotamoto! _Whoever it was didn't care about being heard.

"'Hatari!' I yelled, warning them. Danger was one of few words that I could say without bad pronunciation. I could hear my rescuer agree- 'Ndiyo.' Yes. There was danger, but they didn't run from fear. They embraced it and then overcame it. When a young man fought a lion, he would be terrified- but could use that to overcome his opponent.

"There was a fight. The remaining doctors had guns, and were ready to use them. A few primitive fire-hardened spears were much more efficient in close quarters, and didn't jam. Not one doctor would shoot at me, so I stayed in front. Their leader gave the order as soon as he saw me. The Masai knew that I was not healthy, with the poisonous steroids running through my blood.

"'Ita daktari!' he said, very quietly as there were no sounds to interfere. Fetch a doctor. Their healer was an _engoko, _an elderly lady. She used no usual instruments. I would have screamed to see a stethoscope, even though I couldn't see well. The scientists had tried to do something with my eyes, but it didn't work. They only burn, on bad days.

"'Kunywa, tafadhali,' she told me. Drink, please. I wouldn't drink. Everything had been poison. I refused, until I heard a voice I could trust. 'Nyotamoto, kunywa.' So I did.

"They brought me home. Connie worked her new way with words, and her charm was arsenic in new lace. I only woke once with a yell. _Nisaidia-_ help. I woke up everyone with that nightmare.

"I only saw him once again, after that. My parents were fiercely protective, and security was obsessive. The first thing I said was thank you very much- _asenteni. _I wish that there was just one language. Half the time I'm trying to think of what to say, it comes out wrong. When I'm not paying attention and worrying about what is right to say, I sound almost normal.

"All he said was hapana- no. Uhuru, Nyotamoto- kwaheri. His tribe was moving, and my parents were moving us out of Africa early. Peace, Starfire- goodbye. That was it. All I could say was good-bye. I have a postcard, written from a mission on the other side of Nairobi." Her voice changed inflections whenever she spoke another language, and she pronounced the name of the city like the natives would. "I said good-bye, but it doesn't feel better."

He finally found his voice. "Kori, if the Masai hadn't done it, I would have hurt whoever was responsible."

"I'd help," she said, curling and uncurling her fingers, a strobe of a fist. "I am strong, unnaturally so, and my muscles function to gain the greatest potential advantage in a fight. I was meant to be a soldier, for them, but instead I just have the remnants of what they did."

"All the better to fight crime with, Kori, but you'd be amazing without them. They don't define who you are." _Where did that come from?_

It worked. She reverted back to happiness, so quickly that it made him dizzy to think of it. "I am glad that I met you, Richard." She had yet to pull away from his shoulder, a comfortably warm weight.

"Me too." He paused. "I mean, I'm glad that I met you, not-"

"I know." She stretched, yawning. "I will see you tomorrow, Richard. Thank you for listening."

"It was an honor."

"I know I can trust everyone on this team to not lie. You wouldn't deceive me, and you can keep my secret for a time. I'm finally getting used to it. I'll tell the rest of the team." She slipped away, sure in her promise. She didn't insult the friendship by asking if he would ever lie to her. She was completely unaware that she had touched on a sensitive topic. Hope springs eternal, and she had forgiven all previous irritations. Maybe he would let her get a little closer. She liked Richard, in a way that was different than emotions felt for her other friends, and knew that entailed something she could explain only in Spanish.


	24. Out of Egypt

_The title for the chapter's a weak play on words- before someone asks, it has to do with Selina's estate. Review responses are starting again, using in-site messaging. So, if you want a response, leave a signed review- if you don't have an account, at least leave an e-mail for me to reach. Responses might be delayed, but they'll come eventually. Consultation on plot points (such as mentioned poultry) come from dr.evil99, the grammar mistakes are my own (point them out to earn my grudging respect even as I grumble to myself about missing them), and I still don't own the Teen Titans. Got it? Good. You may now kiss the- wait, sorry, wrong speech. You may now read, review, and wait for a response. Responses and the next chapter will more than likely be delayed- happy Turkey Day. Go gorge yourselves- November 24th, 2005, for all the non-Americans out there. There is no bad excuse for pie._

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Out of Egypt  
**Rachel was not a late sleeper. Her version of sleeping in lasted until around 7:40 A.M., and lazing about grew boring after a few minutes. Selina's Cairo had a few miles of running tracks, and Rachel had her running clothes. No one else was moving when she slipped out a side door before eight o'clock in the morning.

When she returned an hour later from a cool morning, there were signs of life. Something fell in Gar's bedroom (perhaps a suitcase hitting the floor, from the thud), Victor was in the bathroom designated for the boy's, Kori was emerging from the girls' bathroom in a towel, and Richard was doing a very bad job of trying to not look at Kori. Everything was back to normal.

By the time Rachel had showered, everyone was ready for breakfast. The staff had the day off, so Gar volunteered to make pancakes for everyone. He was undoubtedly the best cook among the Titans, and three others accepted. Rachel declined, instead finding tea, a kettle, and a mug in the many cupboards that surrounded the kitchen.

"Don't you want some, friend Rachel?" Kori asked. "Gar showed me how to prepare the cakes of pan, and the bad smell is from just one pancake that has bee discarded."

"No." The syllable was firm. There would be no persuading her otherwise, and no explanation.

"You do not like your cakes of pan or griddle or pan that are hot?" Kori thought they looked fine.

"I don't want any, if they're called pancakes, griddlecakes, or hotcakes. They look fine, they smell fine, and I'm sure they taste fine. I prefer tea."

Kori knew she would have to accept Rachel's refusal. Victor recognized a small oddity, along with Rachel's dislike for cigarettes. She had coughed up a storm before snapping at someone smoking in the girl's bathroom, according to the captain of the Girls' Varsity soccer team. Richard didn't care what she did or didn't eat, as it was none of his business. Garfield had found success before.

"Are you sure, Rachel? I can make shapes, add fruit, chocolate chips- even Victor said soy milk doesn't change the taste."

She hadn't given anyone a look so cold in a month. "Yes. I am sure I would starve before considering eating one of your pancakes, and I am not starving." She left the kitchen in favor of her room, finding the book she wanted. For once, the _Book of Azar _was left in her suitcase. She chose a much thinner volume and proceeded to claim a third of the common room's couch.

Gar, Richard, and Victor were bored. Kori was watching a television program about fungi, of all things. The narrator sounded ready to throw down the script and stop the program, but Kori was still fascinated. Rachel was content, reading an old favorite as slowly as she knew how.

"Rachel?"

"I am still reading, Gar," she said, with a hint of danger underlying the meticulous words.

"Do you want to hear a joke?" he asked after taking a few seconds to debate his probable safety.

"No."

"Sure?"

"I am positively sure. I have twelve pages of my book left."

"You just started."

"It's a short book. This conversation is completely without a point, which seems to be a recurring tragedy. Can I at least read in peace?"

He didn't have time to respond. She didn't give him more than a second before she slammed her book on the coffee table and left for an impromptu run. "Is it just me, or has she been touchier than usual since the pancakes?"

Kori's program on fungi was over after thirty-seven minutes, when the narrator did indeed give up. Richard decided to reward the narrator and find the writer. Programs like that should not go on the air.

"Yes, she is more likely to grow angry today," Kori decided. "Usually, she storms out of the room after waiting for you to tell the joke she does not wish to hear. Before, she has always taken her book with her."

"Should I . . ."

"Let her cool off, Gar," Victor advised. "Maybe she'll outrun whatever demon is bothering her."

"This weekend isn't completely relaxing," Richard remarked.

"Maybe it is not, but at least problems are coming to light," Kori said. Victor and Gar didn't understand, but Richard did.

"Opposites again," he said. "She should be more relaxed, so she's stressed. Kori's convinced me that opposites might work out. Maybe Bruce can figure that much out, too."

"Or maybe Selina will help him," Kori finished, exchanging a smile with Richard. Something was going on between the two of them- eventually, Victor and Gar would figure it out.

**.Sisterhood.  
**"Friend Rachel," Kori said. Her smile didn't betray that she had been knocking on the door for eight minutes. "I trust you enjoyed your run."

"No, I don't feel like talking about why I'm being ruder than normal, I do consider all of you to be friends, and I really do dislike pancakes."

Kori blinked. "I had not yet reached those questions, but as they are all answered, I will get to the next point. There is a fair in town. Will you accompany us? It would not be nearly as fun if we left you behind."

"Fine."

"You will come?"

"As long as that involves me still in running pants, and not staying out too horridly late."

"It will not. But- you are ready to leave now?

"Yes." It was close to dinner, at least, and she didn't have the appetite for a six-course meal. The staff liked to show off, according to a gardener who happily talked at her while she caught her breath. "Let's go."

**.Merry-go-Round.  
**The fair was nothing spectacular, by the equipment. The Ferris wheel's lights were mostly burned out, the rides were covered in faded paint, and even the food stalls looked worn. That didn't matter; they still made the most of everything. Kori tugged a not completely unwilling Richard through the House of Mirrors. Victor and Gar made themselves blissfully sick on the Tilt-a-Whirl. Rachel demurred until they were already reeling, then extracted a solemn oath that projectile vomit would travel outside the vehicle. She made their car a whirling dervish. For ten minutes, Victor and Gar couldn't even look at a merry-go-round.

Rachel only rolled her eyes at the corndog vs. tofu dog debate, instead finding an elephant ear stand. As expected, once it was explained that no elephants were harmed in the making of the dessert, the confection was a complete success. A few were needed, to make sure that everyone understood the dessert.

Richard had never seen a fair, but could remember a circus. Rachel and Victor had not tried something so fully made of sugar in years. Kori had never seen the candy of cotton before, and enjoyed the taste. Gar had just tasted cotton candy (well, more like eaten quite a bit) just a month ago. The oncology wing occasionally ran their cotton candy machine. After a few rounds of denial, everyone was in line for the carousel.

They weren't the only teenagers to fake reluctance. Kori and Gar didn't bother, cajoling more stubborn friends onto the ride. Gar found a green horse. Rachel took one next to him, mostly to avoid people she didn't know, and ignored his attempts at chivalry. She needed no help getting on to the horse. It had a vertical bar and stair-ladder stirrups. The silly lavender horse didn't even come up to her waist.

_He's the one who needs the help, _she reflected as he tried clambering up the large statue of a horse. His chosen mount was at its zenith, and above his shoulder. She guessed that was why parents came on, for the pretense of helping their children. He did manage without any real incident, and was seated before the tinny music always stuck high in the upper registers began to play.

Richard and Kori had been near the frilliest horses. Richard managed to find a brown horse bedecked with only one bow, and Kori didn't care which horse she chose. She was too busy laughing at Victor, who was giving his horse the most skeptical of looks. The statues were steadier than they looked, and Victor and his heavy leg were supported without a creak of protest from the machinery.

Gar insisted on one more staple of a fair, the carnival games. Rachel informed him that they were rigged with the same gravity one may use to tell a teenager that there is no Santa Claus. His odd response was to only smile wider. "Winning's just harder. That doesn't mean it won't happen."

The game was simple. Six cans in a pyramid were stacked along the back wall of the booth. Five balls, five chances, three dollars. Kori missed, but left a dent in the stand and split the plastic ball. A trickle of sand fell from the inside of the ball. Richard's ball went wide and nearly took out the vendor, which wouldn't have been a great tragedy. Victor came close to knocking off the top can, but it wobbled back into place. Rachel's aim was decent, but about eight inches too low.

Gar tossed the ball twice in his hand, getting a feel of the shifting weight. Always go last, in a cheating game. He aimed two feet to the left. The uneven ball didn't go in the intended direction, but instead knocked over every last can. The clatter of aluminum was a better victory knell that a sullenly activated bell that signaled a winner.

Gar, being Gar, chose the most ridiculous prize offered and subsequently presented the large acquisition to Rachel. She didn't miss a beat after accepting the innocuously silly chicken.

"I must be the luckiest girl in the world," she said, but she didn't sound at all angry.

She did carry it to the Ferris wheel, only rolling her eyes at Gar and the chicken. The protruding eyes that gave the chicken the feeling that it was being strangled took in the view from the sixth seat in the gondola. Victor worked his hardest to remain impassive about how close Richard and Kori were sitting. Something good had happened between the two, and that wasn't bad at all.

Rachel caught Gar when he stumbled on his way out of their gondola. She made sure he had sound footing before she deposited a large chicken in his arms. "This is yours, Garfield."

She caught up with Kori, beginning a conversation about the possibility of (perhaps) organizing a shopping trip in the near future. Obviously, Rachel did not want to hear anything else about the chicken.

"You will accompany me to the mall of shopping? Wondrous! How about Friday or Saturday, whenever it works out for you to accompany me and we are not patrolling?" Kori had made the suggestion before, but Rachel had never taken her up on it.

"That would be fine. We can choose the exact date later."

"The Topic that is Heated? Is that a store you would like?"

"No, not Hot Topic. I'm not Goth, and if I was- no self-respecting Bohemian-era Goth would buy from a syndicate chain."

"That is true. Perhaps you can look at gowns of the evening for Homecoming?"

"Homecoming was last weekend, and I don't go to formal dances."

"There are many out this week, and you may wish to attend the dance of the ball of snow."

"I highly doubt I will be attending the Snow Ball, or Prom for that matter," Rachel said dryly. "Besides, can you picture me in a dress?"

Kori nodded, just once. "Yes, I can. Someday, you will, too." They were at the car, and there was an easy way to avoid that line of conversation. Rachel claimed the front passenger seat. Kori took the middle. Gar rode back to Cairo with a large chicken on his lap, but didn't mind. All was back to what counted for normal in their group.

**.Homeward Bound.  
**The last day of a vacation is always awkward. Everyone was packed before breakfast. After omelets (or a vegan option of leftover pancakes, or tea), all suitcases were packed in the car. Even the oversized plush chicken managed to fit into the trunk. That left the time until lunch.

They were in the garden when someone snapped the Polaroid. Rachel was ignoring Gar's latest joke and watching Kori and Richard. Richard was watching Kori wax poetic (if in atypical syntax) about why she loved the savannah, and Victor was giving the camera operator a skeptical look free of charge. It was just a picture- a moment in time, past but still a part of the present in the form of a quickly appearing image.

The Titans rolled out full of an elaborate luncheon. Gar had the front seat, as Kori had abandoned her turn in favor of sitting beside Richard. Richard was uncomfortably wedged between two girls, and very aware of how close he was to Kori. Rachel steadily ignored him and everyone else. Kori moved from topic to topic rapidly, quicksilver dividing and rejoining in distracting motions. He lost a few transitions just watching her. She was vibrant, as always, and everything he had never let himself dream.

The trip home seemed shorter. Vic pulled in front of Kori's house. Richard gave completely unnecessary assistance with her bags, and not a soul commented. Richard was next, en route to Rachel's. Victor stopped at the usual street corner for Rachel. It was useless, asking where she lived. She'd clam up like a limpet in arsenic broth.

She slung her bag over her shoulder after depositing a thick book simply labeled _Emma _inside. She counterbalanced the weight easily, accustomed to carrying books about. She closed the trunk.

"Don't you want the chicken?" Gar asked, only half-joking.

"No."

His smile fell. "Oh."

"My father would not approve. Patrol resumes tomorrow, as I've heard. Good night." It was four in the afternoon.

"She hates me." Gar slumped in his seat as much as the seatbelt would allow.

"Gar, are we talking about the same girl?" Victor asked mildly as he drove away, watching a girl disappear around a bend.

"What do you mean?"

"She went swimming, in a bathing suit, no less, and played a game meant for little kids. She went to a fair. She went on three rides and tried her luck at a carnival game she knew was rigged. That's the most relaxed I've ever seen her, even averaging in whatever her problem was on Saturday."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Well, maybe we could make a stop- I know just the spot for her chicken."

**.Homecoming.  
**Rachel felt that everything was finally back to normal after school on Monday. She'd missed being Raven, oddly enough, and found herself going down the stairs almost eagerly. Fighting various criminals was an excellent way to rid herself of excess aggression. The strange mood persisted as she reached the room, glancing at the newly installed keypad. The new concession for privacy could store a letter-based password, up to twelve letters.

She set her new password. Once typed in, the door unlocked and slid open with a faint hiss. She flicked on the light once she was inside her medium-sized rectangle of paradise. A goggle-eyed chicken was sitting on her bed, note attached with a paperclip to one of the thing's legs.

_Don't kill me, Rachel- Bruce put it in here for me, when he was adding the inside view-screens for the locks. Your dad doesn't need to know that the chicken is here, and neither do I. There is a garbage chute, if you so desire, or you could offer Kori the chance to take in a stray stuffed chicken. –Hopefully not in impending mortal peril, Garfield_

There was only one response to such a note. She put it in her desk drawer. You never knew when you might need a handwriting sample. The chicken was moved to an unused corner. Completely useless, patently absurd, not at all aesthetic- she just might keep that around.

Rachel reached into her backpack, taking out a parcel. Something was happening in her house, and she couldn't trust any part of it would remain a sanctuary. The _Book of Azar _was placed on her desk, balancing the presence of the outlandish chicken. Her cloak was carefully unwrapped from the other bundle, her most precious possession. The ornate hand mirror always showed the same image, it seemed, and she never could look for more than a few seconds. Purple eyes were as natural as her hair, not that anyone believed her.

"Everyone ready?" Robin called. It was Robin. He had switched with the subtle change in voice, all at once a leader.

She was. She didn't remember getting into her uniform, but she was ready to ignore emotional turmoil the easy way; relieving tension. She half-wished that she could run into Jinx. That would at least be a good fight, Victor's new reservations aside.

Bruce called a conference. He had been watching Forston over the weekend. Selina would have to understand. "I've worked with everyone to find some information. Oracle drew a complete blank except for a hint of the gang- just chatter. The police don't have anything. I think Red X was on break this weekend."

"Perhaps he is gone?"

"I don't think we're that lucky, Kori. Red X is the worst kind of thief. He doesn't choose his own targets. He's a kept thief, working on commission." Bruce understood other motives. He could even understand Pamela's efforts, however criminal. Pam had defended Harley. She hadn't done it for money, fame, or power.

"We'll get him," Victor said. "Poor sap's in over his head, but there is no excuse for criminal behavior."

"Too bad Richard hasn't had a shot at him," Gar added. "Red X uses that style of fighting, with a few changes. I won't have an easy weak spot, next time." He still thought Red X was very lucky, to hit the scab under his uniform.

"We'll get him," Rachel said evenly. "We have a little payback to enact."

"You and Babs will let you us know if Red X shows up?" Victor always checked, equipment or informants.

"We'll let you know," Bruce promised.

**.Patrol.  
**They didn't have any luck. The Titans did find an elaborate mugging setup. During the hand-off to the police, when ski masks were taken away, Cyborg recognized a few classmates from HIVE and understood the animosity directed at him.

"Let's go home," Robin said finally, six petty crimes and a robbery later. "He isn't showing, and we need to be ready in case he does tomorrow."

"I wish we could find him out of his Red X costume. Then, he would not be so invulnerable." The ferocity was unlike Kori, and any Titan knew there was danger for someone when her eyes flashed.

"You're taking him personally," Richard said, as mildly as he dared.

"We all should," Gar argued. "He knew everyone's weakest point. Next time, we all know how to improve. No criminal has bested us twice yet. A two-bit thief won't be the first."

"Not need for tough talk." Rachel, even in the T-Car, liked to use the shelter of her hood. "We can get him. We will get him. End of story."

Kori frowned. Richard saw the expression in the rearview mirror, and the reflection made it seem she was looking at him, not out the window. "No holding back. No one hurts my friends." She made a fist with her right hand, curling her fingers just like Richard had taught her.


	25. Seeing Red

_Some things you just see coming- I think everyone knows what has to happen. All sagas must come to an end, but a few incidences of time-lapse come in useful later.There's finally action, which I managed towork in- askdr.evil99, who hates writing fight scenes as much as I do- seriously, just give me dialogue any day of the week and twice on Thursdays. Read, review- you know the drill by now, and if you're not reviewing by now, I've just plain lost hope. _

This chapter is dedicated to my grandmother, who lived from December 28th, 1922 to November 28th, 2005, who made me promise to never throw away what I wrote. (Published November 28th, 2005.)

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Seeing Red  
**Richard knew it would happen. He had created a false detention for conveniently failing to finish his chemistry homework. The assignment was only half-done, but that teacher was content to hand out failing grades. He did indeed have a bad grade, but no additional penalty. The Titans didn't know that, and didn't check.

He had his Red X mask on. For the first time, it felt constricting. He couldn't get enough air- he was worrying too much. He had an easy job, in a distant corner of town. He knew Barbara would find out. Maybe he would be lucky, and she would only know after he was done.

He heard the slight purr of a motor as he was slipping through the door. The motor was noticeable only because he recognized the sound. They didn't make the mistakes he had half-expected, but knew that Barbara had sent them. No slamming doors, no whispering, no distractions. He didn't have to act too surprised when they started their attack. He hadn't known they could move that quietly. Red X's face was hidden, so spinning with a hand on his link to Slade was enough. There were no new messages. He already had his assignment. This was his task.

Red X was facing four very angry heroes. This was not a good situation. As said sometimes in one-way sports matches, the Titans just wanted it more. Raven and her scars, Beast Boy and some secret, Cyborg and his leg- Starfire and her big green eyes, telling him she believed he would never lie to her.

It was like the fight went out of him. The Titans were only more careful. He could be playing possum. He was clever, Slade's thief. Starfire landed a solid kick to the back of Red X's knee, and he half-toppled before recovering. Even with their anger, they fought only to incapacitate.

Red X attacked. He had yet to speak in the lazy drawl of a synthesized voice, but he couldn't lose. That would be the end of everything. Cyborg guarded a small vulnerability. Red X couldn't find a weakness, and he'd be nursing the bruise from Cyborg just above his knee for a week. Beast Boy was too fast to hit, and Raven too angry. Her hood was down, and he couldn't reconcile a furious Raven with the distant Rachel Roth.

Starfire was all fire and no gentleness, using strength that no human should have to bear. He knew that she hated it, from a few more quiet conversations. She would not use it against the typical villains. The strength was saved for the despicable criminals who deserved it. If he hadn't blocked one of her kicks, she could have shattered ribs. As it was, his wrist was numb from the shock.

He retreated farther into the ramshackle house he was robbing. It was the same place the HIVE had tried to break into, the charity rumored to have wealth inside the shabby bases. No one knew who ran the charity, and rumors about its purpose abounded.

He didn't make it to the basement door. Cyborg got behind him, a solid block. Beast Boy made sure he couldn't break left, and Raven covered his right. Starfire, regal and glaring and wild, was almost feral. If looks could kill, he'd be six feet under and pushing up dandelions- daisies were probably beyond him.

"Chief, we have one Red X." Cyborg knew that Barbara had given the address to the police. Starfire could take down the villain without any help, at this point. He had never seen her that angry, and wanted police cruisers ready before she did anything she might regret later.

"You failed." Slade's voice came from the communicator, but Raven still looked around uneasily. As Beast Boy and Cyborg were doing the same thing, the caution was not suspicious. "I thought you were a better fighter." The scream of sirens surrounded them. Officers were waiting at the door, as Slade could see through the communicator. He had one last remark. "Really, Robin, I thought you were better."

It was a trick. It had to be a trick. Red X shouldn't smash the communicator in shocked horror at the mention of their teammate. Robin- of course, Slade saw that a teammate was missing. Richard was serving a detention for not doing the chemistry homework he had asked Victor about last night. Robin wasn't fighting tonight.

"Your ploy will not succeed, Red X." Starfire's voice was a cold and livid hiss. "Robin is not here, and you are a thrice-cursed chlorrbag."

"It isn't a ploy, Kori." The synthesized voice was too much.

"No. This is a ruse. A trick. A falsehood." He- he had said her name. No one knew that. The Titans kept their identities a secret, and Kori Anders was a quiet and reserved example of modesty. She ripped the mask from his face, desperate to prove that the villain was part of an elaborate lie, and was met by a pair of familiar eyes. "Tell me this is not true. Tell me my eyes are lying."

"Kori-"

"_Hapana!" _she yelled, defiant. Swahili poured from her, and all he could recognize was 'no.' There may have been other languages woven through the narrative no one else could understand, but she wasn't paying attention. Her tirade wore down, and ended with a question. The last word was one he could recognize. "Tafadhali?"_ Please._

"I can't lie anymore, Kori. It was never supposed to go this far. I tried to find Loki." He knew that he was losing them. He didn't know he had lost them already.

"I found out that you are a hypocrite," Rachel said in a horribly even tone. She pulled her hood up, and there would be no appeal. Even outright rage would be better than her dull acceptance of the worst type of betrayal.

"I would have to agree." Beast Boy, impassive beneath his little-concealing mask, remembered Robin's snap judgment.

"There is no excuse, Richard." Cyborg stepped back. "You clear this mess up with the cops, because I'm leaving."

"I am most ready to go home," Kori said quietly. Anger felt better, but it couldn't last forever. Starfire could be angry again, but Kori needed time to figure out the mess. Four Titans left, and very quiet sobs stopped for at least a few moments when an arm cloaked in dark blue hesitantly wrapped around a friend. Rachel wasn't comfortable, but Kori regained the steely spine of Starfire for a few more minutes and passed the waiting police with the dignity of a princess. Only one Titan glanced back, but the car keys in his hand meant he couldn't pause to say something else.

"Kori-" There wasn't an answer. There was another question.

"Richard Grayson." Batman had followed the trail of police cars, in case Red X needed a little extra pursuing, and the police were wary about the criminal. The Titans had said he was under control, but they were rightfully wary. Batman agreed to go drag in the wayward thief. He didn't expect to see a de-masked thief, and couldn't reconcile his nephew's head on a criminal's shoulders. "Your father lives on."

"Don't talk about my father!"

"You're the one wearing Red X's costume, Richard. Your friends just left. You are completely to blame. You made a bad choice."

"I had to find Loki."

"Victor let everyone know beforehand. Slade _knew, _Richard. You played into his hand. Don't defend deceiving your friends."

"I-"

"Unless that is an apology, which I doubt, stop now. You hit their weakest spots. You took Victor out of commission, and messed up a few nerve connections. His prosthetic is sophisticated enough that he can wiggle the toes. Luckily, he could fix the mishaps.

"Gar hasn't given away exactly what's wrong, but use a little deduction. Whatever may be the exact cause, he had an IV line for a few hours. You get grouchy after one shot. You knew that he had the weak area.

"Rachel was _attacked, _Richard. You were quick to blame Gar. You hit her in the back, which never is honorable, and exploited all you knew about her from training. She was bleeding, after that, but helped Kori get Victor out of there. Barbara saw the popped seam, but there was nothing to do but put a bandage over it.

"I think you know what you did to Kori. She never skimps on emotions, and that takes bravery. Did she tell you what happened?" Batman asked. This wasn't Bruce; he was using the trademark growl that went with the mask.

"Yes. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Do you know why I'm in here talking to you? Your friends won't. You, Richard, are an idiot. If they forgive you for betraying them, you'll have to earn it. The thrice-damned press has been harassing the police. You're damned lucky that they're sending him away without information until the investigation is finished."

"Lucky?" Richard asked, unbelieving. How was he lucky.

"Do you want to go to jail? The cops are holding back, for now. Unless the team says otherwise, you're not leader."

"What?" There hadn't been an election, but he was a good field leader.

"Standard practice among any group, Richard. You screwed up, you face consequences. Maybe you haven't met consequences before."

"I needed to find out what Slade was planning."

"Did you?" Bruce knew the answer, but Richard had to say it.

". . . No."

"No results, and even if you had Loki's real name, address, and social security number, that would not be an excuse. There is no excuse." There was no arguing, and they both knew it. Bruce had never lied, except by omission, and was waiting for something. Until he had it, they would not be leaving the three-room house. Minutes passed, but Bruce remained firm. This was the first part of healing.

"I screwed up."

"Yes." Bruce waited to see if Richard would continue the statement.

"I misjudged the situation."

"Let's stick with 'screwed up,' however crude the wording. Your fault, no noble connotations, short, concise, and what you need to know. I'm no expert on these matters, but you need to apologize and realize that they may not accept your apology. They probably won't." Being blunt was the best option, Bruce guessed.

"She did tell me, Bruce," he said, as if recognizing it for himself. "All the important parts, why she's so strong- why one thing she won't stand is a liar."

"You figured out that point a little late."

"Yes."

"Can it be like it was?"

"No." Bruce let that syllable take effect. "It might be better. You won't take friendship, leadership, and your fly-by-night hobby for granted."

"But it'll get worse before it gets better."

"Everybody on that team likes Kori. You messed with her, and they're united in anger. It's going to be hell for you, until and unless they decide on forgiveness."

"Well, thanks for the sensitivity," Richard muttered.

"The most easy-going person on the team is currently furious. You're lucky that I'm the one giving this talk. Barbara and Selina had several explicit threats for Red X that didn't sound at all pleasant."

"Do I need to talk with the police?"

"Tonight or tomorrow, you will. I can try pulling favors, but there's no telling if you'll end up without being charged."

"I'll talk to them now."

"Might want to change first, Richard. The reporter's still in his home, and has a camera." Bruce pulled Richard's spare Robin outfit from behind his back. "There's one difference between what you did and what Victor did. Victor told everyone what he was doing. During a robbery he participated in, he left clues and made the acquisition obvious through a few clues to make sure everyone knew exactly what had been stolen."

Batman didn't carry around anything unnecessarily, and Richard had a new idea. "You knew."

"I guessed. You were gone on the right nights. No one else would have been lucky enough to find those weak spots. No one on the team thought of that. They trusted you. Suit up. Next time I have a suspicion, I'll call you on it. You can tell Eve and Barbara that you're grounded. For your sake, I'll tell Selina. She usually doesn't hurt the messenger."

"Grounded?" That had never happened before.

"Yes, grounded, as in I'm cutting down your time in the gym to ten minutes a day. You need to cool your heels, and the gym's the only place you spend time. If the Titans do allow you to patrol immediately, they'll continue their very nice system of co-leadership."

Richard had nothing to say. He found the small bathroom, changed automatically, and left through the front door. Eve and her current patrol partner, a heavyset man who moved much more nimbly than his bulk suggested, escorted him to a squad car. The chief herself had come for Red X. She hadn't come looking for Robin. Richard sat in the back of the police car, a Titan in trouble with the law.

Usually, he was received as a friend in the station. He knew which officers were getting married, having a kid, or going on vacation. He knew all officers, some better than others, and could point out who was employed by Trigon. On any other day, a few officers would come to give Robin their greetings and update him about a few criminals.

He ignored by most, but a few fixed him with a distrustful glare. Too many had seen Cyborg effectively crippled, for whatever a short time, and enough had seen Starfire walking regally with tears dripping from her eyes. They knew what Red X had done, and cops deserved to know who the culprit was.

The interview was in Eve's office. It was an interrogation in nature, but that required paperwork to be filed. Batman had vouched that Robin's guardian knew what had happened. Batman never had lied to police officers, some bit of odd chivalry Eve Phillips knew she could trust.

Barbara was there. She asked about Slade twice before burying herself in manipulating her computer. An hour into Eve's seemingly endless list of questions, Barbara curtly announced that Slade knew Robin had been Red X, but only had a fix on a dining establishment frequented by the Titans. A few snippets of information had untangled themselves, and she understood that the Titans weren't directly in danger.

Batman drove Richard home (_no one _but Batman rides in the Batmobile). There weren't any detours (the Batmobile is _only _used for patrol). Richard didn't even look at the array of buttons that were in the position for a passenger to press. That rule had no exceptions. Nobody messed with the buttons. The inexperienced could do anything from ejecting the driver to covering surroundings in orange paint.

Richard slipped into the house. Two uniforms were thrown onto the floor, pieces tangled in a hopeless mess. The gap in Robin's mask was caught in a voice changer specifically pilfered from Xynothium Technologies. The two costumes couldn't stay entwined in that mess.

Red X's mask was carefully unsnagged from a mask and sleeve. He took care to not unravel the cloth; the last thing he needed was to have to ask Selina for a repair job. The mask was jammed into a drawer with unnecessary force. He never wanted to see it again.

Robin's mask was easier to pry away, and was set on the bed. Red X's belt joined the mask in the drawer, followed by the rest of the outfit. Robin's mask was easier to pry away, and was set on the bed. The uniform that made him look the part of Robin was flimsy, lying across the bed.

The uniforms weren't so different. His eyes were hidden, as well as his identity, in either outfit, and neither was Richard Grayson. But-

Friends couldn't recognize Red X. Red X was just plain ruthlessness. He was done with deceit. Richard Grayson was going to learn this friendship business.

He might be able to explain himself to Victor. Rachel might forgive him, or she might not. Nothing he could say would persuade her. Maybe, if he could ask Gar, he would be forgiven on that front. But for Kori- he'd need something akin of a miracle. He'd yanked the rug out from under her. Once startled, twice shy- he remembered that about horses. They could be the kindest animal the circus had to offer, but a spooked horse will not allow the rider to draw close again for a time.

He left the Robin uniform out, a reminder. He needed it.

**.Resuscitation.  
**Lunch wasworse thanit had ever been. Kori shoved cafeteria food around a styrofoam tray with a plastic spork, leaving artificially bright trails of mustard. Rachel glared at Richard whenever he glanced at Kori. Gar was oddly silent, and watched everyone else. Victor, seated between Kori and Richard, seemed much bigger than the disgraced Titan remembered.

Even a few new casual acquaintances in classes seemed wary of him. He was alone, like he had always tried to be, and hated it. Home was no relief. Bruce was fiendishly stubborn, and disappointed. Being a no-account delinquent who never lost a fight wasn't nearly as bad as letting down an uncle and a team. It never had been his team, no matter what he had assumed. He had been a part of the team, not above it. The Titans met to patrol at Victor's, he guessed, as the Titans drove by without having been in the basement. Starfire was laughing in the passenger seat, and that sound rang through his dreams.

Gar, of all people, was first to stop by, three days after Red X was de-masked. "Do you have any explanation for what happened?" he asked. Gar had a straight-forward plan, for the small confrontation. This was a one-question test, pass or fail. That would be up to Richard.

"Not really," Richard admitted. "It seemed like a good idea then, to tell the truth. I think I know better, now."

"You're pretty quick to judge and you're nasty as all get-out when you want to be." Gar didn't pad the truth. No one would benefit. "But, I do think you have figured out which way is up. All I really have to say is good luck with Kori."

"Thanks." Richard hadn't guessed his sometimes-green friend was mature enough to say anything like that. "I do want to get things back to how they were."

"It'll be better, now that you're over your ego trip." Gar grinned, not at all apologetically. "Well, it is true. The Titans are patrolling tonight, starting in half an hour. Want to come?" He didn't say that the Titans had agreed someone would eventually invite Richard, and didn't need to explain that the others hadn't approved yet.

Richard tagged along, feeling very much like a trainee. He couldn't understand their silent communication, and didn't know what was happening without barked orders. They didn't choose the same approach he might have, but a few ideas worked better than his. When they stopped for the night, he still was an outsider, but he was at least there.

Rachel was next. He caught her unspoken suggestion two nights later, dropping back to let her finish a target. She dryly informed him that he had been a jackass, as the proper explanation was at least an hour long and included many literary allusions she wouldn't expect anyone her age to catch. She extracted a solemn oath that he would never do such a thing again, and that he would trust the team. After that, she ignored him, just like old times.

Victor agreed that same night, after Richard held the door for a still mad Kori and didn't expect anything but a glare. Victor's speech was directly to form. "You messed up. That counts with a few other small mistakes. Clean slate approach, right? Don't do that again, and don't expect Kori to let go of a little righteous fury."

Richard knew. He also knew that October 30th was Devil's Night. Wednesdays weren't usually bad, but everyone from gang members to teenagers wanted to do something to mark the night, from toilet-papering trees to cellophane-wrapping cars. Batman agreed to patrol for the hoodlums. Pamela doubted anyone would dare come near her neighborhood after the last year, but would watch for people with short memories. No one asked the story behind that. Catwoman volunteered to help, and the Titans East were already prepared. The Titans agreed to split into two groups to cover more ground.

Rachel and Gar complemented each other's fighting, but Victor was needed for damage control between the two teammates. Gar set off Rachel's temper, and Victor needed to both stop Rachel from causing grievous bodily harm and make sure Gar didn't go too far.

That left Kori with Richard. Richard was a Titan, and had been restored by three of four teammates. He was a Titan in serious trouble. All he had was a motorcycle license, and Kori refused to get on the back of his cycle, certified or not. That meant that the two Titans not in Victor's car would be walking.

"Would it help that I'm sorry and wish I hadn't done any of it? The consensus is that I was a jackass, and I think that opinion's unanimous," he said after forty minutes of silence punctuated by escorting a few egg or toilet paper bearing classmates to their homes.

"Maybe."

"I've never had friends, like this. I'm used to doing my own thing, and being disliked by everyone. I just don't like that anymore. I think I know what friends are, now, or I at least have a better idea."

"I am mad with you." Kori had yet to give some definitive answer.

This wasn't the time to correct- maybe it was. "I know you're mad at me, probably fed up with me. I've given you every reason to be mad. I'm lucky you're talking to me now."

She didn't soften. "Yes, you are. You know I hate lies. True, we would have been mad to hear what you did. It was simply far worse to hear that from _Slade._"

"That was a mistake I won't make again. I have the bruises to prove it. If- if I hadn't used cheap tricks, I never would have beaten the Titans."

"Four fifths of the Titans, Robin."

He couldn't allow himself a smile yet. "Partially forgiven, then?"

"I hate holding grudges more than I hate you- well, that wasn't the case last week. It is today."

"You don't hate me any more?" It was a step in the right direction, and Richard felt like he just might manage the repercussions of everything. He could deal with Barbara and Selina, if Kori was on his side.

"No. I dislike you a great deal."

"That's better than I expected."

"What were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Something horrible, like you never talking to me again." That came out worse than expected, but he had said it.

"Really?" For the first time in over a week, she didn't glower at him.

_Or not. _He'd have to redefine what was bad to say. "Really. You guys are the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I'm still mad at you," she warned.

"I know. I'm still mad at me, too."

"Good." The conversation was almost back to normal. "Because you do not receive a second second chance, Richard." No one could hear them, so she used his real name.

"I won't need one, Kori."

"You better not, Robin, and I see two would-be arsonists over on Marsden."

"We're on them."

"I'll take the left- your approach is better, leading with your right kick." She found strengths, not weaknesses.

"I'm with you, Kori." And- he was.

**.Trick or Treat.  
**There was a Halloween dance. No one had planned to go, but Kori wanted to. The Titans already had excellent costumes, and the admission fee was nominal. They went in character, slipping in amongst a few Cyborgs, many Robins, cheap imitations of Beast Boy that were the best money could buy, Ravens in solid black cloaks and heavy on the eyeliner the authentic version wouldn't touch, and very many Starfires.

The point of a Halloween dance was to dance, understandably. Bee, also in costume, met Victor at the door. "Cyborg," she said, in character. "Shall we dance for an hour or two?"

Victor was gone. Kori informed Richard that he still wasn't fully forgiven before bringing him out to the dance floor. He didn't fight at all, especially when the first notes of a slow song drifted through the air and he was able to teach her how to slow dance. Gar decided that he might as well try.

"Hey, Rachel, do you want to-"

"No."

"I didn't even ask yet," he said, falsely cross. He had known she would say that, but ideas from watching his other friends made him ask. "I could have been ready to suggest leaving."

"And go where?" she asked.

He had been kidding, but a school dance without someone to dance with would be boring. "For lack of a better place, my house. Shelia still wants to meet you, and she's been talking in medical-speak for weeks. She needs to talk to someone who gets it, just like Harry gets his mechanics'-talk out of his system."

The attraction of getting away from blaring music, many look-alikes, and the press of the crowd was greater than the instinctive aversion to agreeing to any of his suggestions. "Sure," she said nonchalantly. She didn't know who was more surprised.

"Shall we leave, then? It's Halloween, we're in uniform, and we can walk. On the way, anyone messing with little kids can have the two of us to deal with." He was careful to make sure Raven was also invited, and to give some other purpose behind the walk. When dealing with someone who can snap back, always leave a reason to say yes.

"Let's go."


	26. Matchmaker

_This chapter is longer than originally planned, but I guessed that a long chapter would be better than two short chapters with no good stopping point. Selina and Bruce's talk is eerily similar to something that happened in my life a month after I wrote the section- thanks to dr.evil99 for being one of many people to listen to the mess that is that guy. The football game is for one of my best friends- hot chocolate is the best ever, and Lauren's one of few people I can be within two feet of while writing. Considering my level of paranoia, that's a very rare accomplishment. Read, review, and go ahead and find the many mistakes that probably riddle the chapter- I know that I missed something(s, probably several). There is one instance of swearing in the chapter- I am willing to bet you've all heard worse, so complaints about the four letters will be laughed at. Some words squish together in longer chapters as spaces disappear- for every one I fix, two seem to get worse, but I think I've corrected the worst problems._

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Matchmaker  
**"How was your night?" Gar asked the next day. Bee was at their table, arm twined around Victor's. That explained just about everything, but he still asked.

"Great," Victor and Bee said at once. Victor continued. "That was the first time I've had a good time at one of Forston High's dances." If his phrasing was careful, he didn't notice. "How about you, Richard?"

The fearless leader looked like he was very close to blushing. Kori answered for the both of them. "It was wondrous. Although I saw both you and Bee during the Mash of Monster, I could not find friends Gar or Rachel."

"We weren't there." Rachel rarely used collective pronouns, and wasn't about to explain herself.

Gar was only a little pink around the rim of his ears, but Rachel still noticed. She seemed to have a sixth sense about when he was embarrassed. "Shelia wanted to meet her, so we stopped by my house- no crowds, no loud music." He didn't add that nothing at all interesting had happened.

"In full uniform, no less." Rachel had expected some reaction to an infamously camera-shy vigilante from a team of costumed heroes on the Logans' doorstep. All she had found was a warm greeting as 'Rachel, or Raven- whichever you prefer.' Gar had told his parents about the Titans. Rachel, against all usual logic, believed that the secret was safe with the couple.

"So, Shelia mentioned some bit of medical terminology, and Harry and I made out about one word in ten for the rest of the night. Shelia says you're a natural doctor, Rachel."

"With a complete lack of bedside manner," Rachel finished, guessing what belonged after the statement, dashing her own hopes in self-preservation. Without hope, she couldn't be disappointed.

"She didn't say that. She said she was glad you were learning to open up to people. Last time you visited, you were a little more closed off."

"I'm still closed off." That comment wasn't worth rolling her eyes over.

"Yes, but you haven't tried to convince anyone that you're made of ice for a while," he said, as persuasively as possible. With Rachel, Gar's attempts never seemed to work.

"I'm not a frozen ice demon?"

He winced. He had a useless talent for remembering conversation to parrot back later, and he remembered the first time he had met her. "You were trying pretty hard, and you weren't supposed to hear that, Rachel. You know I don't think that now; I know you a little better."

Rachel ignored Richard and Kori's confusion as well as Victor's attempts to remember if he had heard this conversation. "I stopped to get a drink"

"You know that Victor blasted me for saying that, right? Besides, I changed my opinion pretty quickly, and still believe that you could change yours," he said melodramatically, steering the conversation away from being too horribly dark.

"Optimists," she grumbled, "will destroy the world." She should have been happy he had the right idea.

"How?" Kori asked, concerned.

Gar smiled, very slowly. "She just told a joke, Kori."

"No. I was sarcastic, as usual, and you happened to find it amusing, possibly because you were one of many targets. Jokes at this table tend to be vapid and originate to my right," she said, with a pointed glance at a certain Garfield Logan beside her on the mentioned side.

"You're just touchy because Shelia said you were a beautiful young lady," he teased. Rachel's expression had been priceless at the compliment, even if he couldn't begin to read it.

"No." She was 'touchy' because his foster parents were all she had ever created in Raoul and Christiana, the perfect couple. Harry remembered their previous conversation, and gave fatherly advice far from "always shoot twice, but the third bullet's the charm." Shelia fussed over her, admiring the belt and talking about how the blue brought out how purple Rachel's eyes were.

"What was it, then?"

"Nothing." She wouldn't bring up that mess. It would take too many explanations, and reveal too many lies.

She wouldn't be happy, if he pried any farther. He accepted teasing from the rest as he rejoined the main conversation. Rachel was reading again, and didn't get past the first line of her novel.

"What thing is attempting to devour her?"

Gar shrugged. "I don't know what's eating her, Kori. Any ideas, Vic?" They were walking out of the lunchroom, safely away from the subject of the conversation.

"This has happened before, and I never heard what causes anything. Just- don't push her, Gar. She's hard to deal with, maybe, but I think she needs a friend. "You're kidding me." Rachel didn't believe what she was hearing.

"No. Tonight is the last of the football games, and I am most curious about the sport. Could we not all attend the game?" Kori was serious.

"Bee wanted to go- she hinted she'd be there. I was planning on going."

"We might as well go watch," Richard said. "It is the last game, like Kori said, and it could be fun."

"You could just make fun of the team," Gar offered.

"I could," Rachel allowed.

"Why would you make fun of the team? They've won four games this year, out of twelve- that's a new record." Richard liked sports. He just couldn't be bothered to join the school team.

Rachel took a moment, to make sure he wasn't being sarcastic. "The 'manly' men wear tight shiny pants, pile on top of each other, and routinely do silly little dances in the end zone. How is that macho?"

"I think that explains why the team is scared of you." Victor had only heard rumors.

"Probably," she agreed. "I'll go, to the game." It would be better than being home.

"Really?" Kori was surprised, to say the least.

"Sure. How boring can it be?"

**.Interception.  
**Victor and Bee were sitting with her friends, and the group was limited to out-of-costume Titans. They did glance at the game occasionally, but were more interested in comparing criminals they had fought. Victor was very short about Red X, which surprised Bee. He refused to talk about that hated criminal, but she left matters be. She knew Red X had played havoc with Vic's mechanical leg.

Richard was explaining the basics of football to Kori. She surprised him, understanding the rules of the game before the game was four minutes into the first quarter. It was a chilly night, and her coat was surely warm enough- he still sat closer than usual. She didn't mind at all, and even ignored her sister while they were in line for concessions.

Gar was bored, and cold. Rachel had brought a book. She did glance at the scoreboard every few chapters. She would read the numbers, shake her head in disapproval, and give up the hope that thehome teamthat would do something beneficial to the score. The crowd was as entertaining as the game- not very. Gar hadn't even tried interrupting her since that morning at Selina's. He wasn't even staring. She was unaccountably mad at him, for doing what she wanted. She was reading through a textbook. He could have the decency to bait her temper.

"Do you want to get hot chocolate?" she asked.

He nearly fell off the bleachers. She hadn't said a word for half an hour (eight minutes into the game). "Sure." The wind was cold, and the possibility of moving was pleasant.

For the first time in his life, he wasn't crowded in the mess of a line. People avoided contact with Rachel, and she ignored them. He heard comments fly through the air, slurs against everything from her hair to her coat to her likely hobbies. She had an almost regal disdain in silencing an annoyance thrice her size.

He paid for hot chocolate while she whispered a pair of threats to the very large man. The skin-head backed down quickly. Gar didn't ask; he only gave her a styrofoam cup filled with boiling hot chocolate. He tripped, going back up the stairs into the bleachers, and she caught him before he could do any worse than spill a few drops onto his gloves.

"A friend of my fathers," she answered, sending a glare after the man. "He wanted me to approach my father and ask for a favor. I convinced him otherwise."

She usually answered questions he didn't ask. "Warmer?"

"Yes."

**.Touchdown.  
**"And we actually talked for the rest of the game," Gar continued. He had been impossible to shut up since Rachel was dropped off at her corner.

"How much of that was insults?" Richard and all others knew that Rachel Roth rarely had a conversation without insulting someone.

Gar shrugged. "About a third, but she didn't mean most of it and the team took at least four fifths of the abuse." Rachel had made someone from his second hour back away just by being there. He was starting to see just how many people were afraid of her- they seemed to think she was a part of the occult.

"What did you and friend Rachel discuss?"

"She was asking just-in-case questions, for a while, like who my main doctor is. She wrote some of it down, deciding she wouldn't want to find me another time."

"Your medical whatever's still set?" Victor wouldn't ask specifics.

"Still set," Gar confirmed. "It hasn't been bad at all for a couple months, but the doc's been nervous about the week I didn't have the usual pills. Nothing too serious- I'm fine."

"I am most glad, friend Garfield. Thank you for the ride, friend Victor," Kori said as Victor pulled in front of her house. "I had a wonderful time, Richard."

Victor saw the look on Richard's face. It could be best described as 'besotted.' "You know, she didn't put 'friend' in front of your name, but you're very much liked, Richard."

"This is the time for guy-to-guy teasing, Richard," Gar said, no malice in the words. "Kori certainly looked happy. Rachel and I could see you- you two were sitting pretty close, and I bet you two weren't talking about doctors."

"No, we weren't."

"The Titans East have running bets about the relationship between you two, at four to one odds. Are you going to ask her out?"

Richard froze. "No, we're just friends. Good friends. No dating people on the team, right? I mean, that'd make patrol awkward, even without a break-up."

"She likes you, man. She told you about why she's impossibly strong, didn't she?" Victor was careful to not move too fast. "That's her big secret. She told me the bare nothing, the same time Rachel and Gar heard. You're the only one with the full story."

"She told me."

"She likes you, and trusts you enough to tell you about that piece of drama. No one would mind if you two dated. Rachel watched you two and said, and I quote, 'those two should just get it over with, because I'm going to get sick watching them dance around the issue.' It's unanimous, including the way Kori looks at you." Gar didn't know what Richard was waiting for.

"What if we break up?"

"Then you break up. I doubt it would be hostile, if for some reason you two weren't made for each other. Don't think about that first." Victor stayed near logic, helping Richard reason through the idea.

"What about you and Bee?" Richard tried changing the subject. It didn't work.

"I already asked her. She knows about my other commitments, and runs about the same schedule. We're catching a matinee tomorrow- she says she'll pay for the movie if I cover lunch."

"I'm going to be the only guy without a date." Gar feigned annoyance. He didn't mind, really. He wouldn't ask someone just to ask someone, and no one came to mind.

"You could ask Rachel," Richard volunteered as Victor pulled up in front of his house. "She'd be the only other Titan without a date."

**.Foul.  
**"She'd kill me, and it's hard enough to not get her mad as it is," Gar continued. He had been fuming since Richard's suggestion. "He wants me dead. That's all of it, right there."

"Well, you two are the only Titans who wouldn't be dating," Victor said reasonably.

"Don't be diplomatic. It wouldn't work."

"Opposites attract."

"She would murder me, Victor. Remember? Rachel Roth? She doesn't date, and if she _did, _she wouldn't date me."

They were sitting outside Gar's house, but the conversation wasn't over. "Wait a second- she wouldn't date you, but you would go out with her?"

"Maybe."

No teasing yet. "She did take whatever you told her well."

"I would tell everyone else, but there isn't a rewind setting if people take it wrong. Besides, it adds to the mystery of Garfield Logan."

". . . Yeah, Gar, you keep telling yourself that. Out of the car- Harry sees you, and he wants to know all about your girlfriend." Victor made sure that Gar was halfway out of the car before the last statement.

"She is not my girlfriend!" Gar yelled, right on cue.

"Who isn't your girlfriend?" Harry asked.

"No one," Gar said, sensing a trap.

"That means that everyone is your girlfriend, Gar," Shelia reminded him. "So, who is it?"

"I don't need the Spanish Inquisition. The issue has already been overly discussed."

"We're not Spanish," they said at the same time.

"Do you promise you'll agree with me?" Gar asked.

"No."

"Figures. I'm not in any way asking Rachel Roth on a date, so there's your answer."

"That's all the fuss?" Harry was disappointed.

"Of course you won't ask her, dear, if that's what you think." Shelia didn't betray the words with a contradictory expression.

Gar stalked into the house muttering about know-it-all foster parents, but ruined the effect by holding the door for them. They were just being silly, of course- what was it with everyone playing match-maker?

At patrol the next day, he still was distracted by the very foolishness of the idea. Patrol went as usual, except for one incident. The Titans had fanned out to cover a block on foot. Gar found someone determined that her goal in life was to use nylon stockings to hold up a liquor store. He convinced her otherwise, as did the policeman who followed quickly. The girl put up a decent fight, but she wasn't experienced enough in fighting to be much of a problem.

Her boyfriend was. Gar did well, but almost lost. At one crucial point, he almost overbalanced, and the planned kick was weak. He recovered quickly and finished the fight, glad no one had seen his mistake. Solo fighting was easier, in that way. No Titan was weak, and he was a Titan- end of story. No one had to know.

**.Official.  
**"It's official," Victor announced at practice, once he had enough attention. "Bee and I are dating."

No one was surprised, so the congratulatory remarks were rehearsed and nothing that Victor would want to remember for later. "We have problems, with Bruce." Richard didn't know what to do for his uncle, and the team would be interested. "He's been training more than usual- which means he's up to about ten hours a day- and won't answer any calls from Selina."

"Where is he now?" Victor didn't like the sound of that. Selina didn't look like she would take that well.

"He's on rounds being an accountant, and should be back any minute. I tried getting through to him, but he's less coherent than he normally is before coffee. There could be trouble."

"I'll say."

"Selina?" Richard turned around quickly to see the new arrival. "I thought Bruce changed the codes- I would have let you in, of course," he added quickly, seeing the look Kori was giving him. "Bruce is being ridiculous."

"I hacked the system," Selina said with a shrug. "Oracle checked right away, saw that it was me, and unlocked her security. I tried a few likely marks before DAMNCAT opened the door, and I plan to speak with a certain batty accountant, face to face." Selina was not pleased.

Beneath a long coat, Richard would swear he saw purple leather pants. Purple leather? Selina Kyle was a huge name in fashion, and he doubted that trend was coming back. "The outfit?" he asked, trying to puzzle out that mystery.

"It's what I was wearing when I met Batman. I figured he couldn't forget this." She slipped out of her coat, tossing it aside carelessly. The three male occupants of the room would have to agree with her, and rethink their assumptions about people looking good in purple leather.

"Anders cancelled on me again," Bruce said from the top of the stairway, balancing a high stack of portfolios and paperwork. He set them on the conference table in a neat pile before he saw a jacket. He turned around, and not even being prepared lessened the shock. "Selina?"

"No, it's some politician's daughter who's been pumping you for information for a few years. I thought you didn't date criminals, Bruce. I know the whole deal, now, and Pam told me that Talia was definitely down here. Talia would sell you out the instant it would do any good." Selina's eyes were narrowed, and the Titans watching in shock wouldn't be surprised if her pupils turned to slits.

"Selina, you were Catwoman. Thieves and vigilantes do not date," Bruce said for what had to be the hundredth time.

"_Catwoman?"_ That was unexpected. Five Titans were now fully watching the spectacle, remembering facts. Catwoman was sans mask, at the moment, but still had lock picks, a few more modern tools for crime, and the infamous whip, all hanging neatly from a belt.

"But vigilantes and corrupt politicians do?" Selina ignored the teenagers. She had Bruce to deal with, and that was enough. "If you'd asked anyone but Talia, we could have told you that Pammy killed Joker- he went by Jack in two circles, and nobody knew his real name. Not even Harley, and she had the best shot."

"Selina-"

"No. My turn to talk. You were worse than me, back in the good old days. Do you remember those times, when the police station was still corrupt? I raided rich houses, and never once did something a week in the hospital and pain killers wouldn't cure."

"That was years ago, Selina. Of course I remember, back when things were worst. That was before . . ." He never could finish that sentence.

"I know, Bruce. My crowd was furious that he'd attacked an innocent. Jim Gordon was cleaning up the corruption, and someone gave the Joker the idea that the commissioner would break if his daughter was hurt. That came from the office of al Ghul, where Talia monitors all out-going e-mails." Selina didn't flinch away from hard facts.

"No." Bruce couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it.

"Yes, damnit! Ra's knew about it, and so did Talia. Barbara hasn't looked. She knows what happened was Joker's plan, Trigon's approval. Ra's confirmed that Gordon had a daughter."

"Selina, I know Talia was a mistake, now." Bruce had to admit that much.

"What about four years ago, when I told you she was crooked as a crescent moon? That's when you didn't talk to me until your uniform ripped, remember? After that, you wanted to be friends. You never mentioned Talia to me, for the last two years. I knew, Bruce, but not from you- and all I really had was a suspicion. Friends mention people like that."

"What about you?" It was a weak challenge, and Bruce knew it. Worse, so did Selina.

"I work in fashion. I haven't had a boyfriend in years, especially during the touring circuit to get the name recognition. Thanks for asking- after how many years? This is your last chance, Bruce."

"For what?"

"To make good on all that rooftop banter."

"That was- different, Selina."

"What's different? You, me, talk. Do you want me to repeat some of it to refresh your memory?"

For the first time, Bruce recalled their audience. "Selina, there are children present."

She glanced at an enthralled audience- well, one enthralled, three interested, and one reading a book and glancing at the scene. "Their poor, virgin ears," she deadpanned. "You said that once, with a first-person possessive pronoun, as I recall. I bet you that it was the only pat of you to lose that quality. _You _said-"

"No. That's over. Things have changed, Selina, and-"

"No, they haven't. You're still the pansy afraid of commitment, I still fit in my old costume."

"I am not afraid of-"

Selina broke off his impending tirade with a glare he had only seen behind a mask. Catwoman was taking over. "What's your other excuse, to turn me down? Don't tell me that wearing tights has finally gotten to you."

"I don't want a relationship-"

"One question. You don't want a relationship at this moment, or you do not want a relationship with me?"

"I don't want to deal with you now, Selina. I don't want to jump into something because you're forcing the matter."

"Forcing what matter? You say 'Yes, I would love to do something to get me out of brooding' or something of the sort- ad lib, I don't care. I say 'yes,' we move on with our lives. Or, conversely, you say 'get out of my cave,' I leave, and you get the ribbing of all mutual acquaintances. Really, your bypass system is too much- damn cat? Cute, Batman. Cute."

"Do we really need an audience?" Bruce asked.

"We didn't have one a few years ago. Remember how that turned out? 'I don't take criminals to dates, I take them to jail'? I don't always steal from the good guys. I broke into Trigon's house, all on my lonesome."

"You know where he lives?" Bruce couldn't believe it. She had found the hideout of the most elusive crime figure in Forston.

"Of course I do, not that you've ever thought to ask. No use going, Batman- your style will end up with you dead, no matter how much Kevlar I put into that suit. His house is a place for subterfuge, and is a veritable fortress. He's in this neighborhood, Bruce, in a nice little mansion with two or three stories- I couldn't tell, in the dark, and the plans inside are one of a kind."

"What do you know about him?"

Catwoman was growing impatient. "He's married, and not happily. Everything could have changed, I suppose- I was there ten years ago, and only saw the wife once since Pammy so kindly got rid of the Joker."

"How little have you told me?"

"No." That one word was a warning, almost a growl. "How little have you asked, Bruce- there's your thought for the day. So, answer? Final chance, you know I'm finished, and a girl can only wait so long. I'm sick of waiting. Did you see the article in the rag of a magazine?" The 'rag' was distributed nationally, but full of gossip about celebrity figures. "I'm the second most eligible bachelorette, behind the president's kid, and I might just run into an offer I can't refuse."

"Why are you so damn interested?" Bruce couldn't understand Catwoman, or Selina- he didn't know why she could be two people so distinctly, and still blend together to confuse him. "What are you trying to prove?"

"Nothing. I'll take your politeness as your answer. Here's mine, Bruce, to both questions- Good-bye."

"Selina-"

"That's all you ever have to say. You could talk to Catwoman, if you want to get results. If the cat burglar isn't a thief, what is she? You'd never bet that I targeted the gang. The Elysians don't like Trigon at all, or his patsy."

"Elysians?"

"Me. Pammy. Harley. Nigma. Dent. People you've met, people you don't know- we resisted Joker, we resist Slade and Trigon. We're not the baddest part of the underworld. So long, Bruce, and don't call me. I won't call you." She collected her coat, nodded to the Titans, and stormed from the basement with more dignity than thought possible when wearing skin-tight purple leather.

"Bruce," Richard said after a few moments of silence, "I think I won't be going to you for relationship advice. You just turned down Selina."

"I had to" was his only answer. He had yet to look away from the staircase.

"No. You chose to, and she's been working on that little speech for a long time. She won't take an apology easily, if she takes one at all." Bluntness was Rachel's strong suit.

"Who said I should apologize?"

Gar was the one to give him a skeptical look. "We did, because you scorned a famous, rich, and gorgeous woman who was genuinely interested in you."

"She just wanted information," Bruce said in his Batman voice. He sounded like aquarium gravel was jammed in his larynx, and looked like a frog was hopping about and jamming in the mess.

"No- she had plenty. She wanted to get an end to suggestive banter. She could help you- did you hear what she said about Trigon?"

"I don't need your help, Victor," Bruce said stiffly.

Kori disagreed, gently. "If you needed no help, you would be taking Selina for a date. You are not. We shall leave you to peace." The Titans followed her. Richard looked back to see his uncle, sorting through paperwork industriously and seemingly undisturbed by all that had happened. Richard saw the small signs that meant not all was right in Bruce-land, but there was nothing he could do. His uncle would have to clean up that mess himself.

**.Lies and the Lying Liars who Lie.  
**"Angelina won't be happy," Margaret warned. Margaret was one of the regular waitresses, trusted to run the cash register and serve pizza. "You're her most loyal tofu-and-soy order, and you hardly touched it."

"I'm just not that hungry tonight- there's nothing wrong with the pizza." That excuse wasn't cutting it- time to alter reality to fit a lie. "Somebody kicked me, last night, and I'm still a little queasy." That could explain the pain just below his rib cage. There wasn't an alternative to lying, when he was already the weakest on the team. He couldn't be weaker.

"He did have steel-toed boots on," Richard assured the waitress. "That's enough to mess with anyone's appetite." The wrath of Margaret was something he would save for Talia.

"Perhaps tomorrow you will feel more greatly recovered," Kori said.

"We're doing team tomorrow, so don't be afraid to pull back. That guy looked downright nasty." Victor doubted Gar would hold back, but the offer was there.

Rachel didn't say anything. She just looked at him, and he was sure that his lie would be found and told to the team. He was the first to look away, and didn't feel any safer after she changed the conversation to where the Titans might be the following night. He would just have to do better.

He did worse. He hadn't slept well for no apparent reason, and still had a phantom pain. Everyone knew that his balance was off, and only had reasonable suggestions to solve the unknown problem. Rachel suggested asking Shelia, an idea Gar quickly shot down. He earned a second disbelieving look from Rachel, and knew that she had to be seeing through his lies.

There was no patrol Monday. The team dynamic was not right, and everyone knew it. No amount of practice returned the usual way they worked as a team. Richard, again leader in title, didn't take chances. They would just practice for a longer time on Tuesday- that was all.

Rachel found him on the first break during Tuesday's prolonged practice. "Gar, I need to ask you a few things."

"Like what?" he asked, oddly belligerent.

"Have you been sleeping well?"

"Why do you want to know?"

She refrained from commenting. She was just as unhappy with the situation as he was. "I'll take that as a no. Your balance and coordination are off, your appetite is minimal, and I don't think that steel-toes kicked you in the abdomen. Steel-toes are too bulky, you're too quick, and he looked like a puncher." She said everything very quietly, but that didn't matter. It was still an accusation of some kind.

"What are you going to do about it, Rachel?"

"Absolutely nothing," she said, lips pressed together in a tight line. Fine. He didn't want to talk to her. "I just felt that I might make sure you were still healthy, as I'm the only person on this team you've told about a serious condition."

He let her walk away. His sleeping habits were none of her concern. The last thing he needed was to have extra tests run at the hospital. Finances were tight, but Shelia and Harry insisted Gar's part-time volunteer job was more important than some minimum-wage grind.

Rachel watched him during his part of an impromptu sparring tournament. She had lost soundly to Kori, instead of the few moves she usually lost by. Gar almost always lost, but he usually didn't flinch when Kori tapped him. During sparring, she barely touched her opponent. Rachel had seen enough signs.

"Where does it hurt?" Rachel was the one to offer a hand when he fell. Kori was too nervous; she knew it had barely been a touch.

"Here." Giving up, he pointed at the area below his lowest right rib.

She had a reaction to that simple gesture, and didn't offer to lift him. The Titans didn't know why she was so worried about a clipped bruise, but Gar was beginning to see what he had ignored. _Pain. _There was only one response, when she used a doctor's gentleness to probe the area. He passed out.

Rachel took no time to recover. "Richard- call 9-1-1 and give your address. Victor, call Dr. Kozlowski." Rachel rattled off a number and an extension, bypassing secretaries. "Kori, open the door- he needs to be upstairs when the ambulance gets here, if we don't want paramedics in the Batcave."

Richard had an answer. "An ambulance will be here in ten minutes," he said quickly, caught up in the urgency he didn't understand.

"No good- this is an emergency." She snatched the phone- emergency trumped politeness. "What's the hold-up?" She listened, then interrupted. "No, that doesn't matter. Your patient here's unconscious and won't mind, and the IVs won't be necessary. If you come now, we won't need a respirator." She gave the shaken operator a few more seconds. "Thank you."

Victor handed over the other phone. Kozlowski had no patience for the clueless, and Rachel knew what was happening. "It's Garfield Logan," she said quickly. "Yes, hepatocellular carcinoma- usual symptoms, including the pain and swelling, he's on his way. What IVs will he need? Really- I'll remember. Thank you."

"Rachel?" someone asked.

"He'll be fine, probably, but he might not be conscious for a while. I've never dealt with this specific ailment before, but I have done research. Would you get the door now, please, Kori? I'm pretty sure I can avoid likely painful areas, and he needs to be upstairs." If she didn't manage to guess where the worst of the pain was, he was already out cold, and wouldn't know that for a while. She picked Gar up and walked up the stairs as if she carried people about every day of her life. She ordered the paramedics about the instant the doors of the ambulance opened, climbed into the back, and waved to three shell-shocked teenagers. Rachel never went a week without surprising them- they just hoped this would be explained soon.


	27. Resolution

_This chapter is a little late in coming, but homework makes finding the time to type up a story (or write it to begin with) harder to come by. The longest conversation- the center of the chapter- was co-written with dr.evil99. My muse claims responsibility fora few lines, but she wasn't present for most of it. She made up to it by helping with the next two chapters, which I hope will be liked as well as this one. Read and review, please- it burns calories far more than reading alone, especially if you do jumping jacks whilst reviewing. A final note- I have hadto abandon my usual method of chapter breaks, discovered after twenty minutes of fiddling with the chapter. _

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Resolution  
**Rachel found them in the lobby. "We can't see him for at least an hour, while doctors make sure he's stable. His parents have been called, and he'll live." She still wasn't completely pleased; she should have predicted what was going to happen much earlier.

"Rachel, could you please explain what is going on with the grass stain?"

They would know, and had a right to- Victor could just as easily listen to a doctor. He couldn't blame her for telling at this point, she hoped. "He has cancer- liver cancer, which gives his skin that green undertone when he's especially bad off. The idiot ignored all symptoms of a relapse, so we're here now."

Kori was the first to process the information. "That certainly explains much, including his many pills that must be taken at frequent intervals."

"And all the doctor's visits, when he always ends up worse after the appointment." Victor couldn't believe he had missed all the signs, but hindsight is 20/20.

"That won't affect fighting- I don't know why he was so stingy with that gigantic secret, if he's managing it well. We'll just have to start out a little slower, when he comes back." Richard's statement wasn't answered for several seconds. Victor and Rachel were disentangling a delighted Kori. Kori was much better about watching her strength- everyone remembered a few hugs that nearly were bone-crushing- but she forgot occasionally.

"The doctors don't know when he'll be up- the drugs he's on are pretty heavy and practically force him to stay out while the worst damage is fixed. He'll probably be out for a few days, but Kozlowski isn't too worried."

"Rachel?"

She turned to meet Gar's parents. "He had a relapse- I saw the signs, but underestimated his pain tolerance." She had thought that he wouldn't be fighting, this late into the relapse, but he was stronger than she had guessed.

"He's as stubborn as Harry," Shelia said fondly. She managed fond exasperation with the same grace that made hospital scrubs natural fashion statements.

"I resent that- I told you, when my arm was broken."

"Only after I poked the afflicted bone until you relented," she reminded Harry before speaking to the teenagers again. "I've been pulling double-shifts- he's too nice about helping out around the house, convinced that if he takes a night to rest from odd jobs he'd be some sort of-"

"Burden," Rachel finished with her. "I dunked him in the pool the last time he started that with me." Medical details- she didn't need to get too personal. "He had the right drugs within ten minutes, thanks to Dr. Kozlowski giving phone consultations, and I'm pretty sure that I can add two paramedics to the list of people I terrify."

"Those two found me in the staff lounge- you did the right thing. I don't know what we'd ever do, if he hadn't found friends like all of you." Shelia was more mothering than the present Titans were comfortable with, but she decided they could use the compliment.

"I'd do it for most anyone," Rachel said, dry tone steady. "A few exceptions could be explained in great detail," she added, thinking of her father.

"You did it for him, and that's what's important." Shelia decided that Rachel looked ready to bolt- time to get back to medical know-how. "Kozlowski had his feathers ruffled, but he needed to be a little unsettled." The doctor was a nice man, but a little too proud of his medical degrees when the mood struck.

"That I would do for anyone- unsettling people is a specialty of mine." Rachel found a nurse she recognized. "That's one of the nurses- parents first." Her friends agreed- family came first, in a situation like this. They still would see him- in a medically induced semi-coma, he wouldn't be likely to do much.

Rachel had never visited anyone in the hospital. She had been a patient a few times; the last visit had been nine years ago, when she was eight and everything had been wrong. She remembered the piercing background noise of the heart monitor, but not the constant drip of six IV lines. Rachel had only needed two.

Kori tried to not look at the needs, but the snaking tubes that fed into the thin pieces of metal were all over. For a second, she lost her friend in the maze of chemicals, chemicals that looked just like-

"It's okay, Kori," Richard whispered in her ear, very quietly. "This is going to help him." Somewhere, he found the idea of putting an arm around her waist- just to make her feel more secure, of course.

She smiled, copying his gesture. "Thanks," she said, just as quietly. Gar was still dwarfed by machines, but there was nothing in the room to be wary of. She left with Richard, still disturbed by all the machines, and they went for a walk in the dimming sunlight.

Victor was the last to leave. Rachel had been the first- she was more than ready to prove her distance from her teammate and the situation. Victor could see through her acts, by now. "Get better," he advised his unconscious friend. "The team needs you."

* * *

The week was a blur. There were only brief periods of interest when three or four Titans fought crime- during visiting hours Shelia and Harry were working with which school didn't interfere, at least one Titan was there. It was a tiring vigil, but no one considered doing otherwise. The six of them- the Titans and two foster parents- quickly became the bane of the night-nursing staff responsible for getting rid of visitors. Getting rid of six stubborn people was no easy task. 

Everyone was exhausted Saturday night. Rachel had been pulling twice her share of the vigil, and had tackled a reporter from the school newspaper. The _Forston Press _wouldn't cover someone who didn't live in the best parts of town, and the _Forston Daily _didn't cover human interest stories, unless there was violence. That left the _Forston High School News_.

Richard and Kori had been ready to leave Victor to finish the last hour for the night, but their departure was interrupted.

"Ever feel like you missed something?" a familiar voice asked mid-yawn. "Could someone explain what happened?"

Victor decided that he could do that. "Relapse, pretty severe- we're glad to see you awake. It's Saturday now, so you've been out for most of five days. You just passed out on Tuesday in Richard's basement, and we had to get an ambulance." He didn't explain that someone had been there whenever possible. Gar would probably hear that much later.

"It is most joyous that you have become more well, friend Gar. Perhaps I can prepare the Pudding of Exaltation?" Kori was known for her odd concoctions. She had bought some old cookbook from a strange bookstore that never had the same inventory twice, and no one had managed to tell her that the puddings were horrid.

"No, but thanks for the offer, Kori." If Gar suddenly looked greener, he had plenty of excuses.

"It's good to have the fifth Titan back." Richard wasn't going to mess this up.

"Is Rachel here?" Gar asked, falsely casual. Three of his friends were here, but three out of four wasn't what he was selfish enough to hope.

"She went off to harass a doctor, probably. She's been here, Gar. She's probably put in at least twice as much time as anyone but your mother. Rachel was the girl who got you here and in the intensive care unit within eighteen minutes." Victor had never heard of a record like that, but Rachel was certainly forceful enough.

"From Bruce's basement?" Gar was lucky if he saw a doctor within an hour from the time he walked into the waiting room.

"She carried you upstairs herself," Kori confirmed.

"Figures I'd be unconscious for that," he joked. He glanced at his IVs for the first time, noticing the new varieties.

"You should have seen her this week," Victor continued. "She was-"

"Gar. You're up." Rachel was back, and Victor didn't get the chance to finish his sentence. "If several healthcare professionals hadn't spent five days keeping you alive, I'd strangle you myself for being 'brave' enough to ignore signs of an impending relapse."

_That _was the first thing she said to the guy who had been unconscious for three days? He'd almost prefer a pitying-worshipper type. "I couldn't exactly stop you- I'm weaker than a kitten, right now."

Victor had already left, guessing Rachel had something to say and that she would not appreciate an audience. Richard and Kori hesitated. Rachel rolled her eyes. "You can leave. I'm not killing anyone. There's way too much paperwork involved." Kori understood first, and convinced Richard to leave.

"I told them, Gar. People were running around yelling about chemo and cancer meds when they passed the lobby, and I just cleared up confusion before a doctor could give them a twenty-minute politically-certified explanation. They were going to know." Rachel knew a doctor would have brought the matter to attention too delicately.

"Great. This is just perfect. I get to deal with them, too. Who's the first to kick me off the team? You get the lucky first chance to get rid of me."

She didn't have one of her usual instant retorts. Instead, she took a few extra moments- she had never heard him sound so bitter. "Have I mentioned how annoying you are?" she asked, just as mad. "Richard spent hours with physical therapists making up ten kinds of lies to make sure he can adapt training. Victor feels like a complete idiot for not figuring it out, and he and Kori both are impressed with how well you've dealt with the mess. Did I kick you off the team, Gar? I had first dibs. I didn't take the chance then, and no one will now." Her usual monotone was forced.

_Why am I doing this? _He was used to this. Eleven years of cancer, and he was exploding now. He just couldn't handle friends deciding that he either needed to be culled from the group or pitied. He especially shouldn't do this to Rachel- he knew that she was a good friend, when she wasn't busy proving otherwise. "Rachel?" She wasn't looking at him. She was pointedly staring past him and out the window, taking in the inspiring view of yellowing streetlights. "I'm sorry. I just didn't want this, any of it, and I shouldn't take it out on you- or put anyone through all this."

"Put all of us through what? Ignoring classic symptoms of a relapse? Everyone is involved, when you try to tough it out and not be a burden or whatever bunk it is that you're spewing. No one thinks any less of you, and we all wish you hadn't come so close to dying."

She couldn't fault him for being irritable. The doctors had predicted as much, when the relapse and drugs were accounted for. She did fault his determination to hide weakness. "You do realize that you're never allowed to do this again," she said, taking a seat by the bed. "Ambulances really aren't at all fun to ride in." Unless he wanted to know, that was all she would say.

"You were in the ambulance with me?" he asked. She seemed to make it her mission in life to contradict people whenever they were presumptuous enough to develop an opinion. She was an ice queen, an idealistic defender of friends, a demon, a concerned teammate- all without pausing. Were all people that confusing?

"I had to be in the ambulance," she said, as if describing why she had decided to breathe for the day. "The gurney had a dead body on it, and I knew the medical junk. The paramedics believed me, as you looked particularly green and I'd just bullied Kozlowski over the phone." She didn't explain everything; sometimes, she liked secrets a little too well.

"The doctors said your meds are being altered," she continued, "and that you might get a higher dose of chemo. The drugs are more important in your treatment plan, so many more oral meds." She wasn't going to bore them both with jargon; the doctors would do that for him, once they figured out a patronizing tone wouldn't cut it for the teenager. "You are commanded to take it easy for forty-eight hours after the hospital stay. The Titans will enforce this." She didn't want to share the last fact.

He knew she was holding back. "I'll be good. What else do I need to know?"

"We tried, Gar, we really did, but a candy-striper here still caught wind of the magic c-word. She's on the school newspaper, and wrote an article about your brave struggle against cancer- unfortunately, that's a sample of her wording. There was supposed to be a picture accompanying the article, but her camera was smashed in a tragic incident in the corridor." She wouldn't call a deliberate tackle an accident. "We sent away cards." He didn't want to hear this, she knew. "I'm sorry."

His sudden return to good cheer was false. "Fantastic. This day's better and better- everyone knows. Maybe everyone can follow me home and know for sure that I'm not rich. Everything my parents ever saved went into the disease, and it's taking out Shelia and Harry next."

"If it's any consolation, you have friends to help you out. You won't worry about what other people think, will you?"

"No, I wouldn't make anyone listen to that. I've tried to make sure no one knows for years. The whole school knows about it, now. Four people will help me, at least."

"Don't worry. The school has a very short attention span for the best gossip. By Thanksgiving, you'll be old news." Maybe an unconventional approach would work; she didn't know the conventional methods, anyway. "Back to you being in trouble- you scared us, Gar. Cancer is one thing. A very violent relapse is different. Next time you feel that bad, sit out a night."

"I will," he agreed reluctantly. "I just want to be a fifth of the team, no less- it means a lot to me, what we do. I don't want to let any of you down."

"I thought we'd gotten past this," she grumbled. "You're not letting the team down. Everyone understands. You pull more than your weight, anyway- you're a twig. How many times do we have to go over this? So, when you do manage your fifth, you're doing quite a bit- Victor's fake leg probably would be heavier."

"I'm sorry, Rachel- I'm just stubborn, and you remind me of that. I will take it easy for a couple days, and then you guys can show me what I need to do to get better, right?" He didn't know how he'd get through the rest of high school without the Titans, after starting.

"Great. My purpose in life is to remind people that I'm as obstinate as they can be. You won't be part of the action for a few days, but you can watch virtual parts." They had tried to find ways to include him.

He sighed. "I know, but I don't like it." She wasn't sympathizing. "When can I start patrolling again?"

"You're out completely for two days, and then you get a few to ease back into training. For the first few fights, you get a tail- it won't be obvious. It'll be like what Victor did for me, when I was hurt." He might take less offense if she drew a comparison. "Will you let us help you for a little while? You're recovering from a serious setback. Vic did it for me, when I was messed up." She relied on logic; appeals to emotion were better left to Kori.

"Do I have a choice? I don't want to slow anyone down." He hated being weak. "This- this is only temporary, right? I won't always need help." He paused, gathering his resolve. "This thing won't beat me, Rae."

She ignored the familiar nickname- she could make a concession or two for him today. "You won't hold us back. We need a fifth Titan- our fighting has been off. This is temporary, to let you get your feet back under yourself. We know you're a fighter, but we don't want to give some punk a chance to hurt you." We. That was a safe word- the team, not just Rachel. All of her bases were covered, with just one word.

"I can deal with that," he assured her. He could tell that she meant it- she was a horrible liar, when she was worked up emotionally. When she wasn't- she could tell him that she had been Jack the Ripper, and he'd come close to believing her. He changed the subject. "So, uh- what did I miss? I have been out for a few days. Did anything interesting happen?"

"Kori yelled at the newspaper editor in what probably were six different languages, none of which was English. Victor's old microphone gadget did a lovely number on an assembly about you that sent a certain Mr. Evans off the stage in a huff. Very few criminals were unlucky enough to come across two or three Titans on patrol- nothing especially interesting happened in school." She considered, trying to recall anything that would function as gossip. "Bruce tried calling Selina again- she's been ignoring him. So, most time was spent making sure that you'd live through the week. Most of the talks were threats or bribes."

"That's sweet of you guys. Let me guess- you were in charge of threats." He grinned, to make sure she knew he was joking. "I hope I'll make it up to you guys."

"You have nothing to make up to us- and other than a rant of Kori's that no one could make heads or tails of, I was the most likely to threaten. Gar, we know you'd do the same for any of us. If you're so determined to make something up to us, sit quiet for a few days and don't get yourself killed. Deal?"

"Deal. I'll behave. I'm not going to have fun in school, with the cancer-kid trauma. I like being ignored more than the center of a three-ring circus."

"You only have a few options, and none are great." He knew that, but she still kept the conversation moving. "You could ignore the pitying crowd until it's all over, try to fight them and make everything worse, or be such a ham that they give up in disgust. Being invisible wasn't that great, was it?" He seemed to make up for it when the team was together.

"It's better than this. I mean, if I'm going to have half the school paying attention to me, I really would rather have done something interesting." For once, she wasn't sniping at him, and he had no jokes to make for the moment. He blamed the drugs.

"You lived. That's interesting enough. We're all glad you did, as annoying as you can be." She headed for the door. "The nurses said you'd be in school tomorrow if you rested tomorrow. Everyone's taking tomorrow off, so you won't be missing anything." She was gone before he could say goodbye or think of thanking her, and Harry was rushing in.

"Garfield- about time you woke up. Shelia is just finishing a pediatric surgery or other- that's good. She'll be more relaxed- she always is after a nice run of cutting people open and stitching them back together again. She's mad as hornets that you woke up while she was in the middle of a transplant, but that won't last four seconds."

"Sorry I picked such a time to regain consciousness, and I'm happy to see you, too."

"I'm just warning you, Gar. She'll be in full mother hen mode- insanely protective for at least a week, and she'll follow doctors' guidelines to the letter. I took an extra minute chatting with a few surgeons that drive fancy cars- we'll manage. Several of them sounded interested enough that they'll stop by the garage."

"Don't worry about me doing anything- Rachel implied a few very serious threats to my life if I try a thing," he said, rolling his eyes. Everyone always fussed about that- just because he was impatient enough to try skimping on rest.

"It's good that someone on the team has sense. Shelia won't have to worry, then." A small twitch of his lips betrayed Harry's new thought. "Every time you talk to that girl, you come out sarcastic. Is she rubbing off on you?"

"Maybe," Gar said cautiously. "What are you getting at?"

"Nothing at all," Harry said, far too mildly. "One of the Titans was here any given time. She's told you about the reporter?" He barely waited for a nod- Rachel would have glossed over the story. "Rachel tackled her, and managed to make it look like a spectacular fall on Rachel's part. Rachel apologized, picked up the fallen camera, and smashed it against a cinderblock wall. She gave the girl the largest fragments of camera but kept the film, and very nicely asked Shelia to use the industrial shredder."

"That's Rachel." Gar was glad that she hadn't changed too much. He didn't have time to ask for details; Shelia had arrived. Far from being angry, her first action was to wrap him in a careful hug that didn't tug at any IVs.

"Gar, don't you ever do that again, okay?"

"Okay." He didn't have any problems with remission, but knew that he might not be able to keep to the promise. He returned the hug, just as carefully. Nurses disliked replacing needles. "I wasn't trying to cause chaos."

"I know, Gar," she said, disentangling herself. "I just hate having a kid in the hospital. Those friends of yours were wonderful, and the paramedics are still impressed by Rachel. She lifted you into the ambulance, ignored the very dead man on the stretcher, and snapped orders like nobody's business. The nurses all want to hear her strategy for bossing around hot-shot paramedics and Kozlowski, but they'd rather hear from you."

Her tone took a radical shift, to a dangerous calmness. "Harry," she began slowly. "We always discuss bills. Why did Martin in accounting hand me an all-accounts paid notice?"

Harry was just as confused. "I didn't. Gar, have you heard anything?" It was doubtful, but worth the shot.

"All accounts paid as in the hospital bill?" He had seen hospitals bills for doctor's visits- and for four days in the ICU, that amount wouldn't be pocket change.

"The hospital bill- every last cent paid." Shelia brandished the single sheet invoice as evidence. The usual packets for hospital visits came in itemized lists that were helpfully included in their own binder.

Peering through the reading glasses he insisted he didn't need, Harry found the fine print. "All future charges, too. Someone's paying. Martin didn't say anything?"

"Not at all- he just smiled, like usual. He has one of the most depressing jobs in the place, racking up bills and handing them out- and he's not a gossip at all, which is necessary with that much paperwork crossing his desk. Gar, have you ever heard the like?" She had only heard such things as nursing conventions, and anonymous benefactors were very rare.

"I don't know who would do it. My cousin's rich, but I haven't heard from him in years."

"Well, someone wants to help us. You're home tomorrow, and every last Titan is having a relaxing day." Shelia knew every last one of them needed the break.

"Relaxing?" Gar didn't know what Shelia's definition of 'relaxing' was.

"You're not going to be moving much, Richard promised to cut down his work-out time, Victor's being dragged off for more wedding preparations, and the girls are going shopping."

"The girls?" Gar asked. "You do know that you're referring to Rachel as well as Kori?"

"Yes, those two- you haven't mentioned any others, Gar, besides Bee or Mia."

"Rachel said she would, while we were staying at Selina's, but I thought she wanted an excuse to ignore me. I guess she keeps all promises."

"Good. You'll all have a nice day tomorrow, and Monday you'll have at least four people who won't be too irritating." Visiting hours had been over for a few minutes. "We'll see you tomorrow- good night, Gar."

"Good night, mom. Night, dad." Everything would be fine- he knew it, with the sureness that came from what Rachel would dismiss as world-destroying optimism. He called it hope.


	28. Sisters

**_ALL BB-Rae FANS- _**I apologize for shouting, but I think that you should go to this website: www dot deviantart dot com/view/26421394/. You know whatto do with the 'dot's inside the address.Trust me. It's worth your time, no matter how slow your computer loads. Thank you very much to dr.evil99 for the link and the backstory. If you like the idea, go buy issue #30. Would I steer you wrong? If you like the pairing, go have a look at that scan from the current comics. This has been a public service announcement.

_Given the parameters of a real world with minimal concessions for the actual events (as in a few illicit chemicals that can add strength and a team of scientists to substitute for a race of nasty aliens), the episode wasn't entirely possible. Puppet kings just don't work well in the real world, so I've improvised. A reprise probably will happen later, but for now- a chapter about your two favorite female Titans from this alternate universe. (Of the five Titans mentioned so far, if they aren't your two favorite female Titans, I think you know something about the other three that I don't.). Without further distraction, here's Rachel and Kori, in their natural habitat- drama. For today, there weren't any issues in uploading the chapter, so the usual dividers are back. _

**Chapter 28: Sisters**

**.Father to Daughter.  
**Rachel Roth should have known. She was exhausted, so rest would not be easy to attain. She had watched a- was he a friend? She couldn't find a better term, even if 'friend' was intimidating- well, she had been there when Gar had woken up, just outside in the hallway after chasing down an orderly. The sheer relief that everything would be just fine was more exhausting than all the rest of the stress about the matter, and she only wanted to sleep, preferably for a very long time. Getting up at her usual time left her tired, but she had promised Kori. Exhaustion was only trebled after a late morning and early afternoon at the 'mall of shopping' with an extremely enthusiastic Kori. Rachel's few purchases were at Bruce's house. She stopped by just to drop them off, surprised to see that Richard was actually sleeping. Bruce moping abouton the computer was a normal sight, now, and he didn't respond to a wave as sheleft herbags in her room.There was no use in giving anyone at her home any extra ideas. They came up with enough on their own.

Rachel knew that there would be trouble. Her father looked- civil. Slade had been acting odder than usual of late, and rarely even took the time to air snide comments. She was wearing her usual outfit, the one she had left the house in that morning, but that didn't matter. She knew what this was about with his first word.

"Raven, you're home late. So cute, to use your mother's nickname for you." Trigon was most dangerous when he seemed in a good mood. That could stop at any provocation, for no reason, and there would be no warning. She knew better, now, and wouldn't be lulled into a false sense of security.

"I thought you would know. There aren't many girls out there with hair this shade. Besides, any gang that loses to a quintet of teenagers deserves the indignity." He knew about the Titans. That was unavoidable. Her father was a dark oracle, who knew everything through directly unscrupulous methods.

"You have fought well," he acknowledged. Compliments were more dangerous than the occasional swing of a weapon. He wanted something. "Your friends are in no danger for the moment, daughter. I will tell you, when they are. The little stunt pulled with the sick child was not in the least amusing. Rest assured- Adonis has paid for harming your friend, and will not rejoin the outside world after a few insiders in the jails get my message."

"I don't have any friends." The old mantra was too easy to say. She could almost believe it, looking at her father. Who would be friends with the child of that demon?

"Well-spoken. You will be an excellent successor, when you are ready. The day you legally become an adult should do excellently, Rachel- or do you prefer Raven? That's what your mother calls you, I suppose." Trigon made his way to the hard leather couch. "Come, sit- let's have a proper talk, father to daughter."

_Never father and daughter- this is all about him. _She sat. There was no fighting petty requests like that, as she wasn't about to bring him from his rare good mood. "Well, there's what every girl wants for her eighteenth birthday. Control of the local mafia."

"No, Raven," he said patiently, humoring her for some dangerous reason the way a tiger who isn't hungry yet would bat about his prey. "I am not the mafia. The mafia is Italian, as you well know, and this is something I started myself. I didn't rely on family connections. I built my empire from a single scruffy street gang, and look at me now- every man's nightmare. You will be my deputy and partner, and learn all the tricks of my trade. We will be the team to move on to the next big parts of life- taking over the state first, then slowly spreading through the country. My outside agents are already buying out Los Angeles. You will have the legacy of the family, Raven."

"Some family," she said before she could stop herself. "I don't want it, father." The monotone was perfect, free of the emotions Trigon detested so much. Emotions were weakness. "I don't want any of it."

"You will start learning the business," he said, ignoring her defiance for the moment. It would be remembered. Trigon forgot no slights, and forgave as many. "You picked up fighting for your mother's sake- for her happiness, you will continue to receive instruction here before school each day." He knew what she would argue. "Would you rather have her worse off? Obey- that is the first prerogative of a child."

"I will be ready." She couldn't fight him. She always lost, always, and she was never the one to pay.

"You also will be receptive to any further suggestions. Your friends face many dangers, Raven- who knows when some group of my personal employees might take a liking to red hair? After all, they rarely have the chance for a night on the town." He knew which threats would work fastest. "Following any of them home- easy. I know where they live, who their parents are, how to draw them away without causing suspicion- it would be your fault."

She had nothing to say to that. Her friends- this was why she shouldn't have done it. Maybe she had helped a few people, had gotten rid of some crime in the city. She had to tell them, she couldn't tell them- she couldn't digest the threats while he was sitting there, staring, but knew what he needed her to say. "They are just acquaintances, but that would wreck my hobby." Cold, calculating, and what daddy dearest wanted to hear.

"There's a girl. Talk to your mother, would you? She's been fussing- no, it wasn't me this time. Something about an old friend of hers. If she's still crying when I go up there, I will not be pleased." She knew what that meant.

"I will try." That was all she could offer, when Arella had worked herself into a state. Rachel left the room, impassive mask intact. She could not show emotion. Emotion was weakness. Weakness was- terrible.

**.Daughter to Daughter.  
**Kori Anders was furious. Someone had been in her room.The culprit would only escape earninga few disfiguring bruises because her unmade bed was left an untouched squalor. Kori often kicked off blankets, when not falling off the bed during a nightmare, so the sheets were always tangled. She knew who hadto have gone through her room.The housekeeper never cleaned Kori's room, a mutual arrangement. Glenda had more than enough to deal with, as Connie was the resident harpy, and Kori preferred her privacy. Both enjoyed the compromise. This also meant any disturbance of the coat of dust behind the books in her bookshelf was the result of Connie.

The letter kept beneath the mattress was safe. Kori resolved that it would move to the Batcave the next day. Rachel had showed Kori the elaborate mirror kept in her room while Kori was checking the status of a few hard-to-see bruises, and had lightly remarked that it was from her mother. Kori knew that it must be important, and that Rachel hadn't had to share it with her. Bruce's basement would be a very nice place for the letter- besides, Richard had already heard the story. Maybe a piece of concrete evidence would get him to stop fussing.

Something had to be missing. Nothing was broken, and the ceramic figures from early childhood were easy targets. Connie had taken something, and she would have to figure out what had been taken. No books were missing, Connie never went for usual clothes, and the formal dress Kori had found on a trip to the mall with Rachel (that not one of the boys had heard detailsabout) was safe in the basement. Connie did like pretty dresses (or anything that she could get her hands on to steal that would vex Kori), and the sisters shared a size.

Kori prowled her room, searching for the missing object. She hated this game. She found the item- rather, she couldn't find the pair of earrings that Rachel had pointed out as something Kori might like. The delicate chains were sparkling with silver stars, and Kori had purchased them on the spot. If they were lost, Rachel would simply note that and not mention earrings again. Kori knew how her friend worked. For the first time in years, Kori did something very reckless in the usually silent tiff.

She marched down the hall and knocked on a door. The sharp rap of knuckles on teak (Teak! Of all the things to make into a door) was loud and decisive. "Connie, I want my earrings back."

"Kori, darling, don't you mean my earrings?" her sister purred. Connie opened the door, with the sultry grace that was expected of a nightwalker. Connie could switch to naïve in a split second, if needed, in a dizzying turn of acting that made Kori dizzy. "The gorgeous little things with the stars- I love them."

"No, Connie. I mean my earrings. They were bought on recommendation of a friend."

"What, you finally started sleeping around to get jewelry? It took long enough- a figure like yours with so little social skills is just made to go into a life of such exploits. I mean, you're not exactly model material, and a usual boyfriend is out of the question. Just look at the fellow you like, the elusive Richard Grayson- is he your benefactor?" Connie knew how to make words into a series of darts, quick and piercing where self-esteem was weakest. Within a few sentences, Connie's sister would give up and leave, defeated.

Not today. "Connie, I am most certainly not a prostitute. Not everyone wishes to follow you into your career, no matter how good the tips are. Will you return my earrings, or do I have to look through your room?"

The door slammed shut, quicker than almost anyone could follow. Kori caught it with her hand, only a little discomforted as the solid wood slammed into her hand. _So that's why she has a door made out of teak- durable, certainly. _"No, Connie, that won't work. Those are from the mall, that little boutique past the custard stall. If you want a pair, I'll be happy to get you a gift next time I go to the mall of shopping. You cannot steal."

"It isn't right, is it? What do you know about right?" The door opened a little, but Kori kept her hand in place. She couldn't trust her sister.

"I know enough about what is 'right' to know that you take no joy in the stolen item. You like the thrill of getting away with it, because it hides guilt. Connie, I was there, too," Kori said gently. The speech was natural, just like she had practiced with Rachel. Her friend had coached her through appropriate English phrases for a possible confrontation over herbal tea (for Rachel) and a soft pretzel with mustard (for Kori). Rachel preferred fighting, whenever possible- Kori hadn't asked about the implications. Rachel hadn't been ready to share those. "I know that I seem to have taken everything better than you have, but I still have nightmares. I still have scars, Connie. We're sisters."

"You're no sister of mine!" The door didn't close. Two silver flashes shot from the room. Kori caught them, earning a few cuts from the thin metal stars in her hand. Connie had only one thing to add. "Sister dear, you had something to do with it. It was that Masai friend of yours. I knew you were sneaking out, all those times, and I kept the peace. I didn't let our parents know that you were slutting with some precious Moron."

"_Moran, _Connie, and it was not like that. The Masai will only complete the ritual of mating with one who goes through their ceremonies that are enacted at puberty. I was not a part of that. We were friends alone. He showed me leopards, and zebra foals, and elephant calves huddled by their mother. He did not betray us, Connie. He saved me, after the missionaries and our parents had found you."

"That's not true!"

Kori had relaxed. The door slammed shut, and she knew that she had lost her sister. "It is, Connie. Whenever you are ready to believe that what I say to you is what happened, I am here for you. That is what sisters are for. I can't stand you, sometimes. You're petty and selfish and greedy, and manipulate to get whatever you want. But I still love you, Connie. Blood's thicker than water or any amount of chemicals.Don't you remember? No matter what someone else did, we are sisters. Nothing can change that. You're as close to me as Rachel is, even if you are colder than she could ever be. You know it wasn't the Masai. They do not embrace modern medicine, and there were too many nationalities represented between the blurs of green."

"Pink."

Kori frowned, but only waited for an explanation.

"I saw pink," Connie said softly. The door flew open again, but there was no closeness to be gained. "Go away, Kori! You have the stupid earrings. Just- leave! If you weren't my sister, I'd be rid of you and I'd be happy! Did you know that I could have had Richard, if I'd wanted? Just because he's been watching you- I could steal him away in one skipped heartbeat, Kori, and don't you forget it. You're nothing compared to me, nothing. You have four friends- everyone in the school that isn't part of the rejects club wishes they could be my friend."

"I have four friends who would never betray me. You have Kitty Moth, who would stab you in the back for the chance to be the top girl in the school. You have nothing to claim superiority about, Connie, except in age. You are indeed older than me, which may not be so excellent in the many years to come."

"You- don't expect that you'll ride off into the sunset with Richard, sister mine. I'll make sure you don't, just watch me."

**.Daughter to Mother.  
**Arella didn't even notice her daughter enter the room. Rachel tried to announce her presence by clearing her throat quietly. Arella was staring intently at an old picture of two women Rachel couldn't recognize. Rachel gently touched her mother on the shoulder, bracing herself for the flinch that was sure to come. She didn't expect Arella to latch onto her and start crying softly.

"She's dead, Raven- she told me and told me, and she's dead." The whimper of a cry was not tainted with the usual fear and distance. Arella was perfectly lucid, not in her usual world that only touched reality at an obscure tangent.

"Who's dead?" Rachel asked, trying to remember hearing this story before.

"Lenore." She looked lost for a moment, but she looked directly at Rachel after a moment with an intensity that hadn't been seen for twelve years. "She was my sister, and I think Trigon killed her."

"You think he did?" Rachel was very happy to be sitting down. Arella never was that focused, never spoke of anything but the recent past, and never called Trigon by his name. That was what Rachel would have said ten seconds ago, at least.

"He did, maybe, or ordered a hit on her. She was a very outspoken critic of the marriage. I was seventeen at the time, he was twenty. He was quite the charmer- roses and champagne and poetry, all in one date. Why would I date some gangly teenager ogling an eyeful through zit-cream smeared glasses, when someone like Trigon would date me? Everyone knew he was in a gang, but he reformed on the surface. I suppose I was far too much of a romantic, to be drawn with the stories of midnight happenings he told a wide-eyed girl."

Rachel could hardly believe this sudden change. It wasn't- right. But it was- mothers were supposed to be alert and aware and tell their daughters how they met fathers. "Trigon was in a gang?" Shehad heardthat, but never knew where boasting ended and Trigon began.

"Yes. He wrestled his way through that underworld, and started out a daring young man tired of all the corruption- at least, I thought he did. He was in charge of the local drug cartel, and would say with a smile that wasn't quite so charming that he was a florist, but his only flowers were poppies. I was pregnant on my eighteenth birthday, and already married. Lenore didn't talk to me for months, after I got married. I bent about six laws to marry him, and thought all along that he loved me. Maybe he did."

"You broke the law." Rachel couldn't picture Arella breaking anything, but she hadn't imagined that her mother could be in a mood like this.

"Yes. I changed my name to Arella- I was born Angela Roth. I changed my name to make sure that my parents couldn't annul the marriage in time, after he drove me over to Vegas. We went through a drive-through chapel, as he wasn't big on religion, and then he flew me to Hawaii on a jet. That's where you were conceived," she said dreamily.

"Um- mother? Way too much information," she said with a grimace. It was easy to call this woman mother. Rachel didn't have to act like the maternal figure, this time. "What about your sister?"

"Sorry, love," Angela said with a smile, gazing at the picture of two beaming young sisters, ready to take on the world. "She fought my marriage, Lenore did, and damn near won. She barricaded my room and kept watch over the door. She forgot about the attic. Trigon already had all my bags, and I slipped out to meet him. She saw me, when I was in the passenger seat, and the look on her face- that broke right through me, and I wanted to run to apologize. Trigon convinced me to stay with him, that she would see me after our honeymoon when it was too late to force the marriage to be nullified."

"When did she speak to you again?"

"Months later, after I'd been pregnant for a while- he hit me for the first time. I punched him back, hard enough to give him a very vibrant black eye. He was in the middle of apologizing when I hauled off and hit him, and we called it even. He promised he wouldn't do it again, but my mother was a marriage counselor and I'd heard stories of 'never again' far too many times."

"What did Lenore say?"

"She told me several times that I was an idiot, but she was my friend again. She was there for me through the whole pregnancy, when your father was as good as his word. He was an angel, and Lennie- I was the only person alive who could call her that- slowly decided that perhaps he was only grossly under-adjusted to society. She was there, when you were born- she was the one to quiet the doctors when you opened your eyes. The doctors didn't hit you- your father would have objected forcefully, as he's not used to how babies are birthed and won't listen to explanations, and you opened your eyes just about right away. I swear you were focused that first time, and you looked at me with those pretty violet eyes of yours and blinked."

"I was born looking like this," Rachel said to herself, letting the idea fully sink in. Her hair had violet roots, she didn't wear contacts. It was just nice, knowing she was an honest freak instead of a chemically altered freak. Normal people weren't born with purple hair.

"Yes, and you're beautiful," Arella said fondly, drawing her daughter closer. "Today is the anniversary of the day I let her die, thirteen years ago. Your father was mad as hornets when I had difficulty birthing a second child- some end of the line was altered, and I checked out medically. His reasoning was simple. I was denying him a child- there couldn't possibly be something wrong with _him_ after years of injuries. Lennie had heard enough, and she confronted him after finding the bruises." Arella was lost in a memory and fading fast, back to the person Rachel had known for twelve years. "I screamed for her to not leave. I remember ripping the jacket from her shoulders, trying to get her to stay. I never saw her again, and I found her funeral notice in the paper. I forced your father to let me go to that funeral- it would look more suspicious, if I didn't. He allowed it, on the condition that I break off ties with my family. Lennie was dead, because of me- it was the easiest hard thing I've done in my life, Rae."

"Is that the grave by the Forston Chapel, with the carvings?" Rachel remembered being brought to that place a couple times, when she was little, but never recalled whose grave it was.

"Yes." Arella looked at the picture again, but saw the plain mirror beside it. She saw her own face, shallow and wrinkled and old and pale and _ugly. _The old irrational fears bubbled back, after being suppressed by grief. She had needed to get rid of the negative memories, to explain some part of her past before she remembered the present. "Lenore- some think that the narrator of that poem killed his love, to feel so morosely guilty at her passing."

"Arella?" The mother she knew and couldn't identify a feeling for was returning quickly. "Angela," Rachel said, trying to find the mother she loved in the ruin of a woman. She knew she was there. Angela was still alive- she could tell the difference, the woman who promised pancakes and the woman who needed promises to allay fears. Rachel tried to wrap her arm around her mother's shoulders, remembering that Kori had reacted positively to the friendly contact.

"And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor," Arella said to her reflection, shrugging away from her daughter's embrace, "shall be lifted nevermore!"

"Angela," Rachel said, unable to understand the feelings that made it hard to swallow. "Mom."Her motherwas gone again, and the flashes of a funeral came back to her. She knew where that graveyard was. "Is there a sign that would prove Trigon did it?"

"Your father has gone to graveyards before, and if he did it himself, he shoots the grave. There would be a bullet in the headstone, before it could harden after the engraving. She died of a gunshot, at least- the coroner said nothing else, but that could have been a cover." Arella knocked the picture to the floor, kicking it into the wall and not caring when the glass shattered. Rachel swept up the pieces while Arella asked for reassurances, and assured her mother that the picture would be taken care of. Rachel did as asked, throwing away the frame. The picture was kept, brought to Rachel's room as one of two treasures of her mother- a mirror and a picture. She would bring it to Bruce's basement to join the mirror the next day, safely out of the house- it deserved a new frame.

Trigon found her, later that night. Rachel managed to keep her face expressionless when he thanked her for getting Arella out of her 'fit.' She managed to look the image of a dutiful daughter who would take over the underworld of a major area of California and the American west, letting footsteps fade away and darkness settle in her room before she finally allowed a brief display of grief- her throat caught as she tried to breathe, and she could feel her eyes dampening. That was enough. By the time Rachel Roth woke up the next morning, her eyes were fully dry and her mind was made up. She would pay the grave a visit, and see this for herself. No, not for herself- she would do this for her mother.


	29. Nevermore

_Merry Christmas. The chapter's early than I planned, it's here- and if you don't celebrate Christmas, happy Hannukah (I've found sixteen different spellings), Kwanzaa, or nondenominational winter holiday._

_For Pippin, long may he rest in peace. He lived from April to October 30th, 2005, and was alive and well when this out-of-order chapter was written, and died the day after. Pippin- this chapter's for you, buddy, in honor of you producing 138 milliAmps of electricity by running on a hamster wheel connected to a generator. This is also for Meriadoc, affectionately known as Merry, who was Pippin's partner in electricity generation (even if my Pippin was far cuter than Merry)._

_I will tolerate no assertions that Rachel is out of character. She is different than her usual character, but there are very good reasons for this. Those who still find issue with the characterizationcan go somewhere else to read a version of Nevermore. Yes, this is the episode- as best as I could adapt it, with no powers and no magical mirror. Thanks to dr.evil99 for not vexing my muse while she possessed me (which is much harder said than done, as she's a tricky minx)- I didn't plan most of this chapter, but here it is. If you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, please drop a line- _I love reviews_. I'm a review junkie, and I'm not going near rehab. (Crazy? Who said I was crazy? Back away, before I jab you with a spork and- oh, shoot, I'm still rambling. Sorry about that. Go. Read.) _

**Chapter 29: Nevermore  
**Garfield Logan had successfully completed a day of school. Dr. Isley had become his favorite teacher, at least for the day, because she barely allowed an extension on due homework and sent two people to stand in the hallway for disrupting her class (and bothering Gar, but that wasn't the official reason). The other teachers had either ignored him, tried to share in the jokes that typically earned Gar sharp rebukes, or had been so sickeningly sweet that he was tempted to ask to leave the room. That would only make it worse, when he returned. He steadfastly ignored all well-wishers that had ignored him before, making a point of talking to friendly acquaintances from his classes. His cluster of four desks was composed of three definite outcasts (including himself) and a snubbed B-list popularity case. He ignored her as she tried to curry favor, and knew that he was more than ready to leave school.

"Victor, is there any way that doesn't involve bloodshed to get them away?" Gar asked, climbing into the car quickly. He had pulled a favor, the first all day, to ask the math teacher if he could go to his locker early. It was a reasonable request, when he was on a few drugs that wreaked havoc with his immune system, and leaving early meant that he could tip the stack of get-well cards shoved through the vents into his backpack withoug interference. Most would end up as compost, but someone he wouldn't mind looking through names in case someone tolerable had given him a card.

Victor considered. "Unless you want to add in a human sacrifice to absorb all the pity being thrown around, not at all. There is your method of avoiding people whenever possible, which almost works- I'm very glad Kori pulled a few strings with the librarian. A friend near our usual table said that it was mobbed before we showed up- luckily, theA-listers checked the local eat-out places."

"I guess I'll deal with them. But look at this piece of rubbish," he said, brandishing the example. "Kathleen Moth, known as 'Kitty' to the popular crowd- she's up with Connie, for spoiled brats- sent me a gushy note." Gar rolled down his window a crack, then let the brisk November wind sweep the pink (pink! Honestly, he was green more than any other color) note away.

The note spread clouds of glitter through the air. Gar and Victor watched its progress as one would watch a particularly gruesome feeding frenzy- disturbing, but interesting. The letter flew directly over Rachel as she walked by, coating her hair and half her shirt in a mist of the multicolored shining substance. Gar shrunk down in his seat, watching in tense anticipation. _Great. It hit the one person who won't show any leniency for the kid with cancer._

Rachel didn't notice. She kept walking, with a set to her face that was all determination. There was no apathy in her expression. Her entire manner was a bizarre cross between nostalgia and fury, and she entered the florist across the street from the school. Between buying a bouquet of daisies, having an actual expression, and ignoring a shower of glitter, Gar and Victor were sure something was going on, and someone was going east down Main Drag.

"Follow her," Gar said suddenly, an idea born from an impulse.

"What?" Victor couldn't believe that Gar was trying to get Rachel mad. But- the more Victor thought about it, the more sensible it seemed. This was the one time he had seen Rachel this distracted, it had been before The Incident that she still hadn't explained. That had been nine years ago. This was one of few chances to figure out something about the most reclusive Titan. He was pulling from the parking space before he realized exactly what she was doing.

Rachel did not notice anyone following her. Usually, she had to be hyper-alert, as any stranger could be in her father's employ. Today- this was all a strange dream. She was half convinced that she had hallucinated, that her mother hadn't said anything at all. She clutched the bouquet, crumpling the tissue-paper that the florist had wrapped it with. Rachel had not chosen the typical grave-side bouquet, which she guessed to be the somber flowers in bland arrangements. She held the picture, and somehow knew Aunt Lenore, if she existed at all but an image of a smiling woman, would like the bright flowers of all the colors but black.

"I feel like I'm in the Twilight zone," Gar said as the car crawled down the street, making sure to not get too close to Raven. From the distant look on her face that had nothing to do with apathy, the car would have to hit her before she noticed. "Rachel ignored glitter and an opportunity to hurt me, bought flowers, and is oddly free of her usual paranoia."

"Paranoia?"

"You know, the way she always looks at people twice when we meet them?" Gar prompted, earning a blank stare in response. "The way she twitches when someone's behind her, or checks to see if a car is following us after a minute, or watches everyone with her peripheral vision- you've never noticed that?"

Victor shrugged. "Well, I'm not the one with the crush on her."

"No, you're- Hey! This isn't about me. This is about figuring out if this is a sign of the Apocalypse- wait, never mind. She just went into the cemetery. This suddenly makes more sense. She just seems like a graveyard kind of girl," Gar continued as Victor parked. They left the car and headed for the chapel. Inside the tinted windows, they could see out perfectly, and no one could look inside to watch a funeral in progress- or a pair of curious teenagers. The pew provided front-row seats, to try and figure out what was going on.

Rachel found the grave. The entire day, she had been on an odd autopilot. The picture had slipped into her back pocket without a wrinkle, she had breezed through her classes, and she had known exactly which flowers to buy. The grave was just as she pictured it. LENORE ROTH, BELOVED DAUGHTER had come from a middle class family. The upright gravestone had the dates of her birth and death, and was softly inscribed with an etched picture of a dark bird and a dove flying together. Rachel set the flowers before the grave, like it was natural. It was.

So was whirling around, ready to fight, when a hand touched her shoulder- especially in a way that was so possessive, so- her father. She landed a kick on the outside of his thigh before she could freeze, and he threw her over his hip without second thought. She hit a gravestone, and he had her arms pinned behind her before she could begin to roll away from the short marker with the sharply angled top. From her awkward angle before he lifted her bodily, she could see a bullet embedded in Lenore's gravestone, badly covered with a spot of mismatched plaster that was steadily rotting away.

"Rachel, what did your mother say to you?" he asked.

Gar and Victor were on their feet, but didn't rush outside. Neither could explain why they didn't run to apprehend the hostile stranger, why they hadn't warned her when they saw him approaching with the worst of intentions. They could hear voices, and sound traveled far slower than light. They saw the attack, then heard the words- and then took an extra few moments to find the key words. He knew her name, he had followed her without them noticing, and- he knew Rachel's mother.

"The usual requests, Father." Even with her arms in a very restricting hold, she kept the monotone. "She wanted someone to bring flowers to Lenore's grave, and agreeing was the easiest way to make sure she settled down." The story was easily believed- lies based on truth often were.

"You also said that you would throw away this picture," he said, snatching it from her pocket after releasing her arms. "What is this, a sentimental trinket?" He ripped it in half, ruining the first and last picture of a lost aunt Rachel had ever hoped to see. "Emotions are weakness, idiotic girl. I would be dead, if I was half as weak as you are. Some daughter you turned out to be- who will carry on the legacy of the family? I clawed my way into the position, and you turn out to be more worthless than precious 'Lennie' ever did. You're a disgrace to the family."

Victor and Garfield were slack-jawed with amazement. That quiet speech rang through the cemetery with enough force to wake the dead, or at least trouble their rest. Rachel had backed down into someone they couldn't recognize. Her head was down, her hair was ineffectively shielding her face, and her entire demeanor was slouched. Both were too shocked to look away, but felt suddenly like the worst of voyeurs- no one should see this.

"It was nothing, father. I just hoped to leave it here, where it could rot with the flowers." A lie, but this was a lie he wanted to hear. There was a very narrow difference, always shifting, and she had to be careful. Her friends were suspicious enough of mystery aches, and it was hard to get an opponent to land a blow in the right area to get rid of suspicion and bring on the dizzying pain.

"You are nothing, Rachel." He was entirely dismissive, exhibiting a level of condescension that passed enough the most monstrous of foster parents or cynical rehabilitation specialists. He wasn't monstrous. He was a monster, breathing his disgusting breath out in the oldest form of pollution. "You can't hope to win. Why do you resist your destiny? You will work with me, in the most rewarding of careers- you will excel, and that is your only option. You will not fail me again. This is twice in as many days- don't think I have forgiven yesterday's comment. You and your little group of 'heroes'- what will you ever accomplish? You're lucky that it just might help you prepare for your future. You may keep your silly hobby, but another strike will mean that your luck is out. Understood?"

"Yes, father."

She had given up. Gar and Victor had never imagined that she could be that introverted, with all she had ever hidden suddenly revealed to the world as a tattered white flag waving timidly in an attempt to stop the attacks. They couldn't face him directly, when he had so casually defeated his daughter, but they could pick up the pieces he left behind- or at least try. Her father said nothing else, but instead stalked back to his sleek sports car.

Victor had seen the man before, and admired his car. He remembered the man at the corner gasoline station, buying premium fuel for half the price after a few whispered words with the attendant. Gar had seen the man, once- he had brought an impossibly thin woman who looked ready to topple forward at any moment with him to eat in the hospital cafeteria, of all places. That woman hadn't answered to 'Christiana,' and had not been wearing a wedding band. They didn't know his name, but did know he was no one that she would be proud to introduce.

Rachel heard the last purring of the engine die away. Her legs folded under her, and her backpack was grabbed with quick motions that almost hid shaking hands. She managed the zipper with difficulty, finally finding what she wanted. She dragged out her cloak and draped it around herself, hood all the way forward as she found the two halves of the picture. He hadn't split it evenly- Arella's face was ripped, so that the tilted fragment of a picture had made her lose her smile. Lenore was only wrinkled and dabbled in mud, easily saved.

Rachel had a picture of her mother, a string of three pictures from a long ago (_circus, with clowns in painted faces that had made Rachel scream in delight as she saw how wide they smiled and then cry in sobs and drawn-out shrieks when the smiling faces completed slap-stick humor stunts and kept smiling no matter what horrible thing happened to them, and she had cried until her mother had pointed out the elephants and horses and dogs and lions and anything but the smiling faces- A taste of cotton candy had further reduced the fear, and a quick excursion into a photo booth with a long contemplation in choosing faces and backgrounds blocked the return of the horrible wide-smiling clowns until her nightmares that night, when her mother had been there to wake her and hold her after Rachel had tried to scream into her pillow and failed, making her father Angry again_) event that she convinced herself she didn't remember.

She tucked both halves of the picture away into her backpack, zipping it up again before hugging it to herself under the cloak. She was safe. He was done for the day, and wouldn't come back. She just had to be perfect. She should have been practicing from her book, the _Book of Azar- _but it was in her room in Bruce's basement. She would go there to practice. No more slips in showing expressions. She couldn't make another mistake, ever, because she wouldn't be the only one to pay, when she had been so careless in beginning to care about mothers and Titans and dead aunts, when she should be-

"Rachel?"

She jerked away from the voice, scrabbling backwards and getting hopelessly tangled in her cloak. Her hood had fallen away, and her eyes were wide against her pale face. An overcast day made her look grayer than ever, a pallor too close to the gray stones that surrounded her (_just like the clowns had, when they had come into the auditorium to make the sobbing girl laugh at their antics, until her mother had shooed them away from a four-year-old girl, who had been so sad after the funeral and didn't know why she was supposed to cry for an aunt she couldn't remember, as her father had barred contact with That Woman_), and it took precious seconds of fear before she found green and brown faces looking at her, giving her space out of respect for all fears. Rachel Roth wasn't scared of anything, but she was terrified of her father and all that he represented.

She sat upright, drawing dignity about her in an impermeablelayer that she adjusted over her blue cloak. She didn't bother with the hood. Her hands were shaking too much to manage that, and it was better to just hide them in the cloak. _Find your center. _Azarath _is the method behind the book, guide and guardian to all who seek to know the true way of living, _Metrion _was the love of his life who shunned him and thus taught him the value of repressing all emotions, _Xinthos_ is the state that is the antithesis of Nirvana, because you have broken away from the emotional ties and descended into the base mind, that will shield you from all hurts and make you invulnerable, stone, perfect._ She breathed in and out, counting to herself and finding all that made her what she should be. _Azarath, Metrion, Xinthos. _The chant became a dirge, the three principal words of what she had to do.

Victor and Gar were at a loss for words. They didn't know what to say to her. Rachel was perfectly controlled, meticulous in her manners and actions. Victor had seen her in mild distress, once, and that was rare. He had dealt with the problem like any sensible eight-year-old- he waited until Rachel stopped shaking inan odd fashion. Once she finished, she had thrown a soccer ball at his head and they had played. Gar had no idea what to do around Rachel when she wasn't her usual snappish self.

Rachel stood after another few frozen minutes passed by. It was oddly warm, for November. She shrugged off her cloak, folding it neatly with steady hands. Victor had picked up her backpack gingerly, with the care one would give to a sickly baby. She took it briskly, zipping her cloak inside and slinging it over one shoulder. "Well, no use standing in a cemetery all day. Richard wanted us to patrol later tonight, correct?"

"Rachel, you can't believe that," Gar said quietly, just as forcefully (_no, _never, _he could never sound anything like her father, becauseher fatherwas all that she had ever feared in life, and she had never been given a reason to fear Garfield, or Victor- or the other Titans. They were her- _no, _they couldn't be friends, that would only hurt them_) as her father.

"Believe what?" she asked dryly. "The past happens. We move on. Water under the bridge, over the dam- no difference, because it'll still give someone or other hypothermia at some time in the water cycle."

"Rachel, what he said to you- no parent should say that. Ever." Victor had never guessed how far the problem went (_but you would never know, would you, because I'm the best actress to never walk across a stage_), and wished he had.

Her head was held high, her posture was perfect, and her eyes had the deceptively bored look that she so often wore, lashes nearly touching as she surveyed the world through a narrow dark fringe. No one could ever guess that she was fractured where it mattered. Gar and Victor hadn't guessed. They knew. Rachel couldn't handle that. "No one should follow me when I have a private errand to run. Can't I visit an aunt's grave in peace?" Anger was safe. Anger meant she could lash out, forget why she was so mad- they had seen her when no one should. It was worse than someone sneaking into the shower and snapping a picture- that was her body. This was something more personal.

"It may have been wrong for us to follow you," Gar said, honestly contrite, "but it was worse of him to say anything like that. Rachel, you can't believe him."

"You keep saying that. I'll believe anything I damn well want," she snapped, surprised at the words that came out of her mouth. "I don't need the pity party, guys. Don't try to lie and spout a few platitudes about this. Lies are _ugly, _gross and disgusting, and are only better than the lying liars who tell them." Rachel hated lying. She hated it more than anything else she did, but there was no good alternative.

She didn't notice that her eyes were glittering as she looked away from them. It could have been the mirror-bright specks of confetti that still dusted her eyelashes, or that the motes had irritated her eyes. Rachel Roth didn't cry. Of course, she would also say that expletives and other such vulgar pieces of vocabulary were for clap-jawed idiots. Victor didn't know what would have happened if he had been quicker, but Gar was the one to put a gentle hand on her shoulder, murmuring soothing and quiet words meant to calm more than to be coherent.

She reacted faster than he had acted, and he was flying through the air (_just like she had after her father had done the same thing, because really, where it counted, she would grow up to be _just like her father, _and would only grow up to hurt people and shoot Kevlar-coated bullets into gravestones of people she murdered_) and she was trying to run away before she collided with Victor. Suddenly, her large friend was someone to retreat from, but he caught her.

He caught her, and the sight of muscles beneath a dark jacket was enough that she froze for a crucial instant and stopped fighting (_because bad things happened when she fought her father, and whatever he would have done would only be worse_). That was enough. He held her, crossing her arms in front of her so that she wouldn't scratch at him with her bitten nails. He had never met this side of Rachel.

She relaxed, fraction by fraction. He didn't hurt her. She felt safer, caught so that she felt strong arms holding the outside world away from her. When Victor let go, she held on to his hand for a second, a silent thank-you. Her panic had gotten away from her, and she had- "Gar! I am so sorry, I didn't mean to, I really didn't, and I-"

"I caught you at a bad moment," he said. He had already rolled away from a minor collision with a gravestone, and had managed to not irritate his arms too badly. He'd have a bruise on his leg, but bruises healed. She had the violence out of her system, and- she was apologizing again. He had never heard her sound so panicked. Even the night the Beast had prowled, she hadn't looked panicked. She had dealt with the problem as best she could. Now, she had given up before she was halfway through. "Rachel, stop." She did, to his infinite surprise- this was a very strange day, and he didn't like it at all. "I don't blame you. You were dealing with a nasty situation, and I'm just kind of glad I'm not bleeding." Bleeding meant infection, and he still was recovering from five days in a hospital.

"Everyone only gets hurt," she said, monotone slipping wildly back and forth until it sounded like her voice was a distorted record player. "Every last time- I shouldn't have friends, can't you understand?" It was a plea, so out of character for Rachel Roth that they had to remember who they were listening to. "I'm not fun. I can't show too many emotions without getting bad habits that T- my father won't approve." She couldn't say his name. Not here. Not now. Not ever- they couldn't understand. "He wanted a son. My mother only gave him a daughter, and he had to make do with me. My father will let me be a Titan, but only to make sure I get the skills I need to follow him into business. He worked his way there, and wants to keep that much in the family. He'll only hurt you guys, if he thought he could get to me- who he works for doesn't care much for families, when they own the red tape." _Gangs or governments, take your pick- either way is dangerous. _"This is not the best course of action, and it would be better to just give up."

"Rachel, it doesn't matter. You might not be fun in the traditional sense, but you're the best friend I had for years. Remember the accident? You coached me through that. You didn't give up on a friend you had only for soccer when I was missing more than half a leg. You were the one that Gar could trust to tell about cancer, and I would have done the same. You're our medic, remember? Where ever you had your experience, you've done a world of good. You made sure this team was serious. We won't do it without you, Rachel." Victor was careful to not spook her. He had listened, when a very young Rachel had dreamed of having a horse of her own- smarter than dogs, and big enough to kick hard. He had thought she wanted the animal to play soccer. Now, he knew the truth.

"Rachel, you don't need to be anyone you don't want to be. You don't have to laugh at any of my jokes. You just need to be your usual irritable self- that's the friend we started liking, and we won't stop just because your father is a prick." Gar had nothing to add that wouldn't bring up dark memories he wanted to avoid.

Gar could have sworn that she smiled. If such a thing ever did happen, there was no proof. He had just insulted the most powerful man in Forston, because of how he treated his daughter. She couldn't remember anyone standing up for her like that, and she had thrown him into a gravestone when he had only tried to help. "I am-"

"Sorry," Garfield finished. "We know. Didn't you threaten me about excessive apologies? As I recall, you dunked me in a pool. As it's fairly dry, I'd have to come up with some other threat. Consider this your first warning- remember, third try and I'll have to think of something."

It had been working. She had lost a little of the foreign look of a doe trapped in a hunter's sights, but- why had she frozen and stepped back at his last sentence? She nearly tripped over her dropped backpack, and Gar was there to catch her. She didn't start, or throw him into a gravestone. She just tensed, like he was about to hurt her.

"I'm sorry, for whatever I said." He couldn't remember exactly what Mr. Roth had said in the tangle of derisive statements, but he must have accidentally echoed some part.

She socked him in the side, very weakly. She avoided arms entirely, remembering the hospital visit. She probably could have hit him directly on an IV hotspot and not caused any pain, as she felt weaker than a newborn, but there was no use in having something else to account for. "No apologies, remember? Let's go over to Bruce's. He has that hot chocolate maker. My mother always says- well, said, that- that hot chocolate's good for whatever ails you." That was the quickest way to get back to normal.

"We're in," Gar told her, taking her bag. "No, I insist," he said when she tried to take it back. "I want to pretend I'm useful for a minute, okay?" he said with a self-mocking smile. He could take a few easy shots at himself, if it meant she could be herself again.

"You are useful," she said, leaving the easy opening for an insult behind. "Thank you." She didn't counteract what she had said with an insult. She had done enough. She simply bundled herself into the backseat, curling like a cat around the seatbelt and noticing the glitter on her eyelashes and her right side for the first time. About to think nothing of it, she noticed a similar substance on his backpack. Tracing backwards through events, skipping the graveyard, she remembered an odious get-well card Kitty had been waving around that had flown above her head. She gave him a weak glare, and he had the decency to act normally, explaining away very quickly exactly why it wasn't his fault, and trying to not show how happy he was to hear her timidly insulting him.

By the time she was making her way down the spiral staircase into Bruce's basement (it always was Bruce's, no matter how possessively Richard looked at the equipment), she was close to normal. Victor went first, giving a quick report that Rachel was to be treated normally, that a small occurrence had been dealt with, and that he and Gar would fill Kori and Richard in on the details about her father later.

Gar and Rachel descended together. She was maintaining that she wasn't about to trip, and that, for his own health, he should concern himself with his feet. He argued that she probably had a bad bruise. She returned that she had a bruise, but his was just as pressing of a concern. They made it down the stairs intact, even while bickering. She accepted her backpack regally, turned, and promptly fell over. He caught her, and then overbalanced. They were a tangle of teenagers on the floor, and he could have sworn that he heard her laugh in the ensuing chaos. Kori was the first to offer help, and Rachel took the offered hand. Finally standing, she glared at Gar.

She had a final round of insults before feigning a huffy retreat to her room. She didn't quite manage to close the door decisively, and knew that she wasn't quite herself, but that could change. She found a picture frame given to her during Kori's interior designer stint, and fit the two halves of her mother's picture together as best as she could. Beneath the glass in the frame, the tear was noticeable, but didn't distract from two smiling sisters. Rachel felt that she could begin to find herself again. Her father hadn't managed to cause permanent damage- he had only made the picture more valuable.

She left her room for hot chocolate when Gar knocked on her door, and knew that Kori and Richard had been told of her father. Kori's eyes were flashing danger, and Richard looked brooding and pensive. They had to know that a government agent couldn't be approached. Instead, they focused their efforts on a friend. Rachel sipped her chocolate, not caring that it burned her tongue. She drank it down all the more quickly. Feeling anything was better than feeling nothing at all. She was not going to go quietly, if her father wanted to force her away from friends like these. She had made her decision, and her father would not interfere in her personal life. _Never more,_ she repeated, liking the sound of the thought. She could have friends, and Trigon couldn't do a thing about it.

* * *

_To clear up matters before anyone gets at all confused, the Titans do not know her father's name or what he does for a living. His name is mentioned exactlyonce in the chapter. Gar and Victor know that her father is nasty, but the Titans are still under the assumption that he works for the FBI. Rachel is not established to be a child of the mob. She'll tell when she tells, and not a moment before. This has been a public service announcement to impede the many probable questions, provided by an author with an aversion to migraines._


	30. Six

_There is a lot going on in this chapter, folks- and it's a long one. Consider this a deliberate bribe to tide you over while I go on a band trip to Florida. Thanks, as always, to dr.evil99 for listening to very many various rants about the plot (and inspiring a character who will show up later, but that can be explained then), and thanks to all reviewers (you know who you are- I wouldn't do half as well without you guys). Flames about the newly introducedcharacter will be disregarded. Read and review, please, and keep all hands, feet, and elbows inside the vehicle at all times._

**Chapter Thirty: Six  
**The Titans had expected that Rachel would be a little under par that night. They were surprised, to say the least, when she was more focused than she had been for weeks. The conflict had been dealt with, however slightly. Her friends were still with her after a part of the story. Maybe, someday, they would hear the entire mess. That would only come after her mother was gone, and Arella didn't have the presence of mind to escape.

Margaret noticed. She was a partner in the restaurant, and easily recognized five usual customers. The quietest of the group was always the girl with a book. Somehow, the tome of the day was never smeared with thick red sauce. Margaret was tempted to ask her secret in keeping books safe, but doubted she'd get an answer. That night, the dark-haired girl was joining the fight for pizza. They always ended up ordering the same thing- a small vegan,large sausage, and a large Heart Attack (all varieties of meat, double cheese), but the debate was a tradition the waitresses only pretended to be exasperated with.

The other ritual was to have one piece of sausage pizza left. The only fair way to resolve a potential issue was a tournament of rock-paper-scissors. Gar played for glory, but his pizza was never fought over. For the day, Rachel entered (and won) the match. A few weeks of observing made it easy, and everyone had a pattern. No one had seen a book enter the restaurant with her. Rachel demurred to take the pizza, giving it to Kori as a thank-you for the day of shopping. Kori accepted it happily, and Victor rolled his eyes whenKori shared with a flushed Richard.

Richard and Kori had already been dropped off, and Victor's car was parked beside the usual corner. She never didask to move closer to where she lived, and Victor could begin to understand why. She didn't want them to meet her father. Rachel paused before closing the door. "If anyone ever hears anything but necessary basics, I will have to create consequences. Good night."

Victor heard what she didn't say. "Night, Rachel, and I wouldn't think of it."

"We'll keep it a secret, Rae," Gar promised.

"It's Rachel," she said, fixing him with her sternest glare. He could see straight through her show of venom. "Good night."

Gar waited until the car was safely a few blocks away. "You know, she isn't nearly as bad as she wants people to believe."

"That's because she isn't." Victor had met her before she started developing her Ice Queen persona. "You certainly picked a difficult girl to have a crush on."

"I doubt that-"

"Kidding, Gar- except about you having a crush on her. I was only sure when you started spouting off those little details about her. Go on in," he said. They were in front of his house. "Tonight was your last night of watching patrol. You get an assessment, and then you're with us. You didn't hear this from anyone, of course, but the decision was unanimous."

"Thanks, Victor."

"Any time. Besides, it only means I get to tease you after Rachel's done assessing."

"Assessing what?" Gar asked, suddenly nervous.

"Physical capability. She's closest to your level and style, fighting-wise. That means you'll need to rest up tonight. You'll do fine, Gar," Victor reassured him.

Gar doubted it, and made his final decision shortly after Victor's car pulled away into the night. "I'm doomed. This is going to be bad," he announced to his front door. There was no need to worry anyone elseabout impending trouble- they might take her side.

**.Fans.  
**"Not bad." Rachel helped him to stand up. "I was pulling all punches, of course, but it was a good fight. I was seeing how far you could go. You're a little under your usual level, but that's expected. Soreness in your arms and sides won't be a problem for long, and I'll just help watch out in the off chance we run into someone serious."

"Yeah, but for right now, the soreness is an issue," he retorted as he collapsed onto a chair. Recovering from a week of doing nothing was always hard, but what he was attempting was nothing short of insane.

"You'll be fine, and you'll have someone with you until you're back to normal." Rachel retreated to her room, done with being encouraging. That had filled her quota for at least the rest of the year.

"See?" Victor waited until Rachel's door was safely closed, and still talked quietly. "She didn't go easy on you, and you did fine."

"I did 'not bad.'"

"Don't pull a Richard on me, Gar. I won't lie and say you should try fighting Jinx and hergroupright now, but you'll be fine against the usual lot. No one knows that Beast Boy has cancer, and it doesn't make a difference to us, where it counts. It does mean that anyone going near you will be pounded in a bit of self-righteous loyalty, but we'd do that for anyone. And Gar- coming from Rachel, that was a compliment."

"We have more mail that has been sent by the fanatics," Kori announced happily. The others had adopted her unintentional nick-name for the many senders of mail. She and Richard had walked to the post office in uniform to clean out the post office box. Starfire always had a stack, and immediately started to sort out the lewd letters that made Robin turn an odd shade of fury. Robin had a growing fan base- including his gym teacher. Cyborg answered a few questions about technology, and could usually find a letter from Bee. Gar had an odd collection that embraced all groups of people, and his own collection of frightening fan girls (Richard had more, but Gar didn't mind- he didn't want to encounter any of them).

"Rachel, there is one addressed to 'Raven.' Would you like to open it?" Kori asked.

That was a first, and unusual enough to convince Rachel to come out of her room without the cloak. She glanced at the return address. "Cooper? Wasn't that the reporter to saw us first?" She remembered names, when there wasn't a face to back them up. She opened the letter, ripping through the adhesive in a neat line.

She didn't pay attention to the answer. The letterhead confirmed that M. Cooper was the chief editor and reporter for the _Forston Daily, _circulation over 2,000. The letter wasn't at all what she expected.

_Raven- I estimate you have received the least mail from rabid fans, as my newspaper has relatively few people clamoring for an Enquirer-style expose on your life. Rest assured; such smut would never be printed in a paper of mine. Of all the Titans, I must say that you are my favorite.  
Being a hero must be a burden. If you ever feel the need to rid yourself of some of the weight you bear, consider this letter an open invitation. Not a word would be used or printed as the basis for anything, and I can give a waiver if you so desire. All I seek is conversation, and all I offer is a listening ear.  
You are the strongest of the Titans, whether they realize it or not.  
Forever yours,  
MICHAEL COOPER_

"Was it an interesting letter?" Gar asked. He doubted reading over her shoulder would go over well. "I had one from someone who was convinced that I'm part vegetable, someone thinks Kori is an alien from outer space, Richard has three letters from his gym teacher, and Victor always hides the ones from Bee."

"It's from the reporter who wrote about us once. It's nothing exciting." That was enough information that he stopped pestering her. She kept the letter, just because- sentimental hogwash, she knew, but it was Raven's first letter. She only looked at it once again before leaving for patrol- it was only a letter. Nothing bad would come from keeping it.

**.Reunion.  
**Of all the nights they could meet the HIVE, it would be when it was inconvenient. The HIVE found the Titans while two criminals were still in the process of being subdued. Cyborg and Jinx exchanged a glance before Gizmo charged. Her eyes narrowed until he could only see a slit, and only one of his eyes showed. There would be no quarter for past memories, even if they had parted on a better note.

Cyborg held off the mugger and Gizmo, but didn't have real success until Beast Boy backed him up. With a half of the attempted mugging duo out of the way, Cyborg could focus on Gizmo. Beast Boy stayed, in case further help was needed. Gizmo was tricky.

Jinx and Robin were fighting at an even match, and Starfire was wearing Mammoth down. Raven stayed back, just in case. She could ignore taunts of cynicism from her team and cowardice from the enemy of the hour. She would rather be overly cautious than have someone hurt.

Gizmo had been playing the old wounded-bird routine. A few mechanically-aided kicks knocked Cyborg back, and Beast Boy was in trouble.

Raven was there. She was a reckless fighter, when mad- she lacked her usual precise aim, but the rash force was enough to take care of Gizmo before helping Robin with Jinx's last salvo. Mammoth was the last of the HIVE to retreat, when faced with five Titans.

"Thanks, Rachel," Gar said later.

"It was nothing."

He didn't know if he was being overly optimistic, but he didn't think the tone of the short phrase was completely acrid. "Whatever you say, Rachel," he said, without the sarcasm that would be offensive. He'd have done the same for her, or anyone else.

"Really?" She was skeptical.

He expected nothing else. "Really. You could convince me the sky was green and the grass was blue."

She rolled her eyes and again resolved to find the person who fed him those lines. The lines would stop, after she was done with the culprit. "For an irritating, scrawny, and perpetually optimistic guy, you're not too horrible."

"Thanks, Rachel."

"Anytime, Gar."

**.Spy.  
**Gar spent Wednesday night trying to convince someone besides Kori to try his pizza. Kori's recommendations didn't help his case, as she would pronounce burnt rubber "most tasteful" if it was spread with mustard. Her cooking was edible, at least. He had coached her through condensed soup, but the scrambled eggs fiasco was still fresh in everyone's memory.

Rachel noticed someone watching them first. She looked harmless enough, but her father's spies usually did. _No, too obvious. _No one her father hired would stare long enough that Gar noticed; he did, after three minutes. He wasn't experienced in figuring out who was remembering every move to report to Trigon. By the time everyone was watching her watch them, Rachel was convinced the girl was a novice.

Rachel's preoccupation lasted through the rest of the night, even after the staring girl left. No one seemed to notice. She usually ignored conversations, and staring into space intently was typical behavior. Leaving the restaurant, Rachel decided the girl could have been a one-time occurrence. The stranger had been jealous, perhaps, to see a group of friends sitting together.

A second patrol meant Rachel was home later than usual. She rarely saw anyone on Wednesday nights. Arella was back to her usual habits, Trigon had 'things' to take care of, and Slade normally stayed in the basement. He hadn't tried fighting with her since before that soccer game.

The girl from the pizza place was slipping out of the basement. It was forty minutes past midnight. Both paused, staring at each other with open distrust.

"Trigon's daughter," the interloper hissed.

"Coming from an under-trained spy of Slade's, that isn't an insult. There's only one reason you'd be in his lair this late at night. He holds briefing sessions during the day, and only the young pretty girls get extra nocturnal training. Does he tip well, at least?" Rachel designed her words to cut.

The girl stiffened. "That is none of your business."

"He was married. His kid is probably your age. He's a con artist, and he will forsake you the instant you lose novelty or usefulness." Rachel knew the stranger wouldn't listen, but she always tried with the newest 'acolyte' or 'apprentice' or whatever else he called them.

"He might as well be divorced, and you can't tell your friends who I am. Information cuts both ways, Trigon's daughter- and I doubt they know who your daddy is. Just consider this a stalemate: no one wins."

"What do you want?" Rachel asked. The stranger already had a hold on her.

"I want to be a friend of yours."

"Why?" Rachel was instantly suspicious.

"It's not from some gang-related thing. This has nothing to do with organized crime. I'm- jealous, I suppose, that friends can do something."

"So find a few," Rachel snapped. "If you can prove your intentions, the Titans East are looking for a final teammate. The Titans are already settled, and we don't need a viper as part of the team."

"You can't keep me out if the other four agree. Besides, you're known for being cold, judgmental, paranoid, distrustful- who would blame you? But- I will be your ally, if not your friend. It's all up to you, Raven."

"No. I will not trust Slade's latest pet." Rachel left without listening for a response. _No. _She would make sure no one would betray her friends. They had to trust her, even if she couldn't explain why.

**.Soy.  
**Rachel glared when the girl shyly approached their table. She couldn't tell the team of the danger without ejecting herself from it. If they knew her biggest secret- why would they believe her about a kind stranger? Rachel would not lie when she could avoid it. The consequences later would be worse, and in the end she would destroy the team. If they knew the girl worked for Slade- Richard would give the newcomer a chance to answer questions, and then Raven's father's name was out in the open.

"Rachel, please do not glower so. She means no harm," Kori said quietly, so their guest wouldn't hear.

Victor agreed. "You have to give people a chance, Rachel. We haven't hurt you." He was watching the girl approach, and pitched his voice appropriately. No one else had to hear.

"Everyone deserves a shot."

Rachel had expected Gar to contribute some byte of wisdom after Richard was done, but he was staring at _her. _The girl was at the table.

"Hi," the girl said, carefree and upbeat. "I'm new to the area, and wondered if I could sit with you guys. If you wouldn't mind, that is," she added politely.

"Sure." The consensus was supported by four of five Titans. She sat next to Gar and listened to a quick round of introductions before giving her own name. "My name's Tara Markov. Do you guys know about any good gyms around here for free-style fights? I've had training before, but I need a place to practice."

Rachel knew she had lost. The team already liked Tara, and they suggested a few small gyms nearby that offered the right stuff. Rachel could drag her heels all she liked, but Tara would be a Titan. The rest were already friendly with the stranger. When they met after Angelina's, at Richard's request, everyone but Rachel discussed the possibility of a sixth Titan.

"What does everyone else think?" Richard asked. "She'd be a good Titan." She had agreed to a quick fight in the parking lot, and was indeed only a little rusty. "I think we have room for a sixth."

"She'd fit in," Gar offered.

"She appreciates nice cars- and she could help us out. Whenever we split, it's two and three. She's a good fighter." Victor had warmed up toTara quickly , especially watching the way she joked with Gar. Her jokes were worse than Gar's.

"Tara could most certainly be an excellent friend."

"Rachel?" Richard asked after a long pause.

"I don't trust her. We met her today, and she'll be a Titan tomorrow? We have no proof that she will not betray us. We have enemies."

"How many enemies would approach five teenagers eating pizza? No one knows that much about us." Richard didn't see her point, and he was usually the paranoid one.

"She could be a traitor sent to destroy the group from the inside. I don't want to find out the hard way." Rachel was being stubborn, and couldn't say why.

"Rachel, what's the real problem?" Victor asked. When she was upset, she often brought up less severe points and blamed them for all her anger. "We have an extra communicator, someone could fit in the seat between the driver and the passenger, and you're not proud enough to refuse help. She isn't a replacement."

"No," Rachel maintained, ignoring fears that Tara would be a replacement. Everyone liked Tara already. "She is a danger. I vote that she continues to be an acquaintance only out of uniform."

"I am most sorry, friend Rachel, but the majority is the victor in a democracy like this nation." Kori didn't understand why her friend was so against the idea.

"The United States of America is not a democracy. This is a democratic republic. Democracy just looks prettier on papers. I'm walking home. Don't blame me when she betrays you." Rachel collected her coat and left, ignoring offers of a silent ride. She was not pleased with them.

"I didn't do it," Gar said after the door had slammed.

"I don't know if anyone did anything, but maybe she'll be better tomorrow." Victor could always hope.

**.Tomorrow.  
**Rachel was worse. She didn't voice her displeasure at being an ignored minority through nasty remarks. Instead, she acted just like she had in August. When she withdrew to her part of the basement without a single barb, even after hearing one of Gar's worst jokes, they knew that Rachel was taking the newest Titan personally. She hadn't said a thing when Tara looked around the basement for the first time, and had not been present while Tara was invited to become a Titan. The Titans didn't know what to do, and no one had an idea to top Kori's. They called for help.

Selina took her time in coming, and only did so when assured Bruce wouldn't be home. She was quick to greet the newest Titan and size her up for an alter-ego, and quicker to realize something was wrong. Rachel was either secluding herself completely or absent, and the four Titans she knew looked uneasy.

"Okay. I'll bite. Is your missing girl unhappy about Titan number six?" Selina dealt with models on a regular basis. Teenagers were much easier to manage.

"Yes. Rachel thinks Tara might betray us," Richard said, with an apologetic shrug for Tara. It wasn't her fault Rachel was paranoid.

Selina gave her trademark skeptical look that usually sent most interns running for cover. Any who resisted and merely guessed that of course Selina wanted sugar in her black coffee was immediately promoted. They weren't telling her everything; a part of the story was missing. "Is that all she told you?"

"Yes. You are perhaps aware that friend Rachel is most taciturn." Kori couldn't find a way to fix the mess. She and Tara were already close, but Rachel was also a friend.

"There's what she says, and what you can figure out by knowing her." Selina wasn't well acquainted with Rachel, but the Titans were. "Does she make friends easily? I doubt it. I know a little of her background through pure coincidence, and she's come a long way. For Rachel, trusting anyone is a risk." Selina couldn't forget the child's face. That had started Catwoman's odd switch to museums and rich criminals.

"Victor and I saw her father, once. He's a nasty piece of work." Gar thought there had to be more to the story than not making friends easily.

"Yes, he is." Selina wouldn't say anything more about that man. She could respect secrets. "She might feel replaced, but you can't just tell her. Show her, all of you. Understood?" Selina had the agreement she wanted. "Now, Tara, what name are you going by?"

"Terra, T-E-R-R-A. I don't have family- nothing but a G.E.D. to my name, really."

"Where are you staying?" Selina asked briskly, a part of the questionnaire.

"I have a place, at least for now. I'll have a day job by tomorrow. I'm nineteen, and I'll let someone know if I can't make rent. I think I'll be fine, though." Tara had been on her own for a very long time.

"I'll have your communicator before we patrol tonight, and that's all you'll need to get in touch with one of us." Victor was used to the circuitry, after making five.

"Gar's back to normal, so we can take turns watching your back." Richard would have to plan the route alone, if Rachel stayed in her room. Her usual insights about possible criminal activity weren't worth the welcome he'd be sure to attract. "I'll plan where we should hit for tonight."

"I will assist you," Kori offered.

Tara accepted the help graciously, but proved to not need back-up. The sixth Titan as congratulated by four members as Rachel decided to again walk home alone.

**.Meet the Press.  
**Kori had a bad feeling about the press conference. Rachel had been close to civil that morning, but the feeling persisted. Kori hated reporters, by no fault of the media. The newspaper circus was another source of bad memories. This conference had even drawn the _Forston Press_; the Titans rarely granted interviews.

"We are introducing the newest Titan," Robin told the assembled crowd after muttering a thank-you to Chief Phillips after she called the crowd to order. "Terra will not field personal questions, like all other Titans, and we will judge which questions are too personal." She had been a member of the team for just a few days, but word had spread.

"How old are you, Miss Terra?"

"Nineteen," she answered confidently, exchanging glances with teammates. Raven had pointedly withdrawn into her hood.

"How did you join?"

"I was lucky enough to meet this great group of people, and they let me in. I've had experience in fighting, as a few accused criminals here could attest." A few reporters chuckled with her.

"Are you new to the area?"

"Yes."

"For the rest of the team, anyone- has this changed the team dynamic?" The reporter with _FORSTON DAILY _embroidered onto his jacket looked directly at Raven, but Robin answered.

"Yes, but I like to think we needed a little change."

"A new friend is welcome," Starfire said, overcoming wariness of the camera.

"She's a new Titan, not a liability." Cyborg liked the new girl. Tara knew when to ask and when to be quiet, and he had to like a girl that had Gar wrapped around her little finger. Victor had overestimated what Gar felt for Rachel; they were close friends, after all, and Rachel just didn't know how to handle someone rocking the boat.

"She's fun to be with," Beast Boy told the reporters.

Terra was surprised at his phrasing, and didn't bother to hide that. She had only known him for a few days, but they were already close. "Are we together?" she asked, knowing the cameras were rolling. He hated letting people down, and she had been dropping careful hints all week.

"Um- yeah?"

It wasn't the most eloquent acceptance, but the following hug captured by cameras made up for it. The tabloid reporters beamed at pictures to add to columns of Cyborg and Bumblebee, next to editorials about Robin and Starfire. Titans in Love- it made the papers sell faster than hotcakes.

Raven was as mysterious as always, and held herself aloof from a deluge of questions about the relationships of the Titans. Cyborg gave the minimum answer with a casual grin, Terra chatted happily about how wonderful Beast Boy was, and Robin blushed visibly when Starfire said a few nice things about the Boy Wonder.

"Raven- Michael Cooper, _Forston Daily._ Is there romance in the future for you?" he asked. The reporters instantly zoomed in on where her face was estimated to be.

"That is not a subject I will address."

"My other offer still stands, Miss Raven, and the discussion wouldn't reach any publication."

"If I accept, you will be the first and only person to know."

"Of course, Miss Raven."

She didn't explain the odd conversation as the Titans left. Instead, she looked at the business card the reporter had given her. It could be nice, having someone to talk to with enough anonymity to remain distant.

She posted a letter the next day from a corner post office box, addressed to M. COOPER and lacking a return address. She wasn't required to be miserable, and she always had heard that talking about one's problems helped.

**.Apprentice.  
**Tara stared at the communicator in her room. The Titans had accepted her easily, except Rachel. She couldn't expect Rachel to trust her so easily- especially when Tara couldn't bring herself to fully trust Rachel. They could hurt each other too easily, and Rachel was too close to the truth. Tara wasn't doing this for organized crime. She was helping Slade. If the Titans fell, he would gain more power and the transition would go smoothly.

It was a pity, but Tara would betray her new friends. Trusting Victor, ecstatic Kori, serious Richard, righteously paranoid Rachel- and Gar. She couldn't find enough adjectives for him. They were 'together,' in the way of teenagers. They went to bad movies and threw popcorn at the screen, but Tara wasn't in anything for the long haul.

She was an explosives expert, and that's why Slade had found her. She often miscalculated, but that was the risk of her work. Tara was known as Molotov, to the underworld, and her cocktails were of the deadly variety. This time, there would be no mistakes. She opened her notebook computer and rattled out a quick report. Slade didn't need the Titans yet, but did request her presence for the evening. Tara smiled, already basking in the compliments he'd pay his only apprentice. She would go in on the top floor of this underworld and clean it up. There would be no hits on businessmen, and a few legal ventures would move up in priority. She could fix up the place- and profit when the ambitious decided they could stand to join her business.

She sent the report and allowed herself one contented smile before turning off her computer and leaving the room. She was ready to see the other Titans now, but they'd never be ready for her.

**.Better a Door than a Window.  
**Five Titans were present at the one-week anniversary of adding a sixth member to the team, held in Bruce's basement. Victor and Gar were arguing about pizza even as the two favored pies occupied opposite ends of the table, Richard was assuring Kori that the slightly burnt edges of the cookies would only make them crispier, and Terra was eating a slice of vegan pizza and watching the argument.

Gar gave up the argument, pretending it had nothing to do with not having an answer for Victor's latest statement. "Where's Rachel? She usually at least listens."

"I tried to persuade friend Rachel to leave her room, but she is not in the best of moods this day. I do not believe that she wishes to have a visitor." Kori had tried, but Rachel had been very curt.

"She didn't have her usual don't-you-dare-ask face on today," Victor said, remembering. After seeing her father, he understood a few past events. "She said that her father's been working on a project for the past few days and not bothering her, so I don't think he's the issue this time."

"She hasn't mentioned her mother," Tara said, drawing a few curious looks. No one had mentioned Rachel's parents. "I- met her, many years back. I know her- cousin." That was the phrase she had heard Rachel use, once, a mocking taunt towards someone who lived in her basement. Slade had not been pleased with the friendly title. He enjoyed the shock of fear he usually inspired, and Rachel made it clear she felt nothing but scorn. Tara knew that Slade had fought Rachel many times- how could Rachel not see how powerful he was?

"The guy from the basement?" Victor had only heard of that man a few times. "He is not a nice guy, at all. He's up there with Rae's father."

"He isn't the best relative," Tara said, ready to steer the conversation away from that topic. She was obviously dealing with a dull bunch, if they had missed obvious signs and trusted friends enough to not look into their backgrounds. They spoke of 'Raoul' and 'Christiana' like the couple truly lived with Rachel. "You guys don't think she's mad about me, do you?" The question was meant to reaffirm her position on the team. She didn't expect a pause.

"That might be it, actually." Richard hadn't known why Rachel was so unwilling to welcome a sixth member. She looked out for her teammates, but didn't include Tara in that group. She was too new. "She seemed to think that you would betray the team, but didn't even hint at why."

_Running scared, Rachel? _Tara's secret alliance was safe, then. Rachel had missed her chance to give a quick history of Slade and his apprentices. "Maybe she's just nervous, about getting another friend."

"You could be right. She doesn't warm up to people often. Once she's decided that you won't betray her, she'll be a little more open." Victor didn't think it would be polite to add that Rachel seemed to especially dislike Tara. Some things just weren't meant to be said in polite company.

"I could try talking to her," Gar offered. "It's worked before, and she's been there for me when I've had bad times."

Kori was the only person to not approve immediately. "Friend Rachel is not very happy today, and wished to have no company. She is more terse than usual."

"That's just a better reason for him to help her out, right?" Victor wanted Rachel and Gar to work out whatever was going on between them.

"Maybe she'll let me know what's bothering her," Gar said, growing less confident in his idea by the second. Why would she share what was worrying her? The encounters he'd had where he thought he'd seen Rae, as he mentally thought of an unthawed Rachel, were few and far between. She had needed to stitch up his arm, had been chosen by the team to judge his medical condition, probably was just tired of him from that time at Selina's, had been the only one to know what was happening during his relapse, had needed to resolve matters. He'd just been lucky, that was all.

He was at her door before he was even done thinking. Her name seemed to glare at him. The stern block letters she had made without use of a stencil were precise and controlled, unlike the green scrawl he'd painted on his door. He knocked, very quietly. Maybe she wouldn't hear him, and he could just leave- no. He couldn't give up on her. He gave the second knock some force.

"Go away, Gar. I'm not in the mood for pizza, and the sight of everyone stuffing their face would make me ill." She had heard him before he knocked the first time. Scuffling footsteps had left the main knot of noise, and no one else would try. Kori had taken a little convincing, but Rachel knew that it was better to be alone when she was in a mood like this. She hated being out of control, and finding her center would be the only way to make sure she didn't ruin a precarious balance.

"Could you at least come out of your room and talk to me?" He had to try. It was very difficult to talk to a door, even if talking to her face was only slightly easier.

"I could, but I won't."

"I can guess what you're doing. Correct me if I'm wrong, okay? If I can't see you, I'd like to have a good idea of what you're doing. You're sitting on your bed, probably like a beginning yoga student, and I'm willing to bet that you have your giant, nasty mildewed book spread across your lap."

"It is the _Book of Azar,_" she corrected him sharply. "It is a valuable aid in-"

"Meditation, I know. I don't understand why it's so important to you, Rachel. You never show emotion, at least not in ways that we can tell. You have about three moods. You have the classic ice princess, the extra-angry model, and then there are the times when you forget that someone's watching you. That book's banned in about sixteen countries, Rachel, but I'm sure you know that. It's dangerous." He tried to imagine Rachel as he spoke to the door, keeping her image in mind in place of bland wood.

"It is only dangerous if not used correctly." She hadn't realized that he paid that much attention. That only proved she needed the advanced meditation, if her control was slipping. "Don't ask about it in bookstores. That will get you a tail for sure. This book is only to be used with the best of intentions."

"I looked online. Babs let me use a secure server, no tracing possible without frying the hard drive of whoever tries. Rachel, that book is dangerous. If you do manage to finish the book's aim- that wouldn't be what you wanted. That book shows how to cut off emotions completely, to never feel anything. You would destroy yourself, Rachel."

"Emotions are needless things. They cause a lapse in judgment and a deviation from logic. What is the point of them?" She was not opening the matter for discussion. "It is no business of yours what I do. All agreements are null and void. Tara and the rest know of your cancer, and there is no reason to address me with concerns. I will not be listening to any of your litanies of insecurities."

"Rachel?" What had caused this? He hadn't said anything that annoyed her since Tara joined the Titans. She hadn't been this cold since the day he first met her, and this was worse. He knew that there was someone in there. "Do you want to talk about anything?"

"No. I want you to go and bother Tara. Tara is a socially adjusted individual who would never be accused of being someone who worships Satan. I do not listen to matters about emotion. Talking to me about your problems is like asking a butcher about a good vegetarian restaurant. It won't get you very far. Now, if you'll go back to your vegan entrée before Victor dumps it into the trash, we'll both be happy."

Not even threat to his pizza moved him. "Rachel, I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry."

"If you don't know what you did, why should I accept your apology? You'll only do the same thing over and over again, and keep expecting that all is well. If you don't know what happened, I won't tell you. I can't solve all your problems, Gar, and you're on your own. Go ask Tara. As I've said, the help desk is closed, don't darken my doorstep. Leave me alone." She knew he wouldn't leave without a fight, but wished it didn't have to be that way.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't good enough for you, but I can't figure out what you want from me. You never laugh at my jokes, you never accept that I can be serious, and everything I ever do is wrong. Maybe I can't talk to Tara about everything, like the nightmare I had last night where you were paler than any living person is and blood was falling from the skies in red diamonds of hail. You're the most sensible person I've ever talked to, about cancer. Can you please tell me what's happening? I thought we could talk."

"I could, but I won't." She had used the line, but he had used the question. She wouldn't make his self-assigned job any easier. What did he want? Some tearful confession of her woes? That was as likely as pigs sprouting wings and flying in formation while singing Handel's Hallelujah chorus.

If he really listened, he could sometimes find hints of a tone in what she said. There was never more than a trace, but it was there. Today, there was nothing. Looking at a door, he couldn't even try guessing if her eyes showed a brief glimpse of emotion. "You are my friend, and we're all worried. You've barely said a word to anyone all week. You can't say that it was your father. You didn't start acting cold until the night before we met Tara, but this isn't about her. This is about you, Rachel. You're not being replaced. You're still a very important part of the team. Without you, everyone would be thrown off. I know I would be. I like spending time with you, Rachel, even if you do spend most of your time ripping on me."

"Anyone who tried getting me off this team would have several broken bones." Through the door, all he would hear was an arctic undertone. He wouldn't see the damning bit of weakness, when being replaced was even mentioned. Her father would kill someone just to spite her, and she was ice. This didn't matter. "You're used to people being nice to you, aren't you?" The slight tone took a sudden shift into something almost friendly. "You've had a few hard knocks, sure, but people always are honey-sweet to your face or are thrown in detention. Anyone speaking ill of you is politically incorrect. Let me tell you how the world is, cancer boy. The world will eat you up and spit you back up, no matter how many friends you think you have. Before the cancer, the group needed a joker. Finding one from the poor part of town only gave you a nice, balancing, politically correct feel. Have you ever seen any old movies, Garfield? The funny guy always goes first. Always. So don't come to me, convinced I'm worried about being redundant. You're still weaker than me, remember?" She let the words sink in, guessing he would have no response to such words. As she suspected, no one had ever aimed undiluted venom at him.

That was low. She had to know that much. _Does she care? _That was a question he couldn't answer. "Rachel, do you mean all that?" He kept his voice steady, a feat that took more out of him than a round of chemo. How could she do it, for so long?

"Would I say it if I didn't? This would be the point in the conversation where you have a choice. You can either leave, accepting that I am the glacial demon everyone seems to think I am, or continue to protest and wait for me to really rip you to shreds. I'm done teasing, and I don't have to listen to you any longer. What'll it be, Gar?"

He walked away. She had no happiness in the victory. He believed her. She could hear her friends, and imagine their expressions. Kori would be disappointed that Gar hadn't gotten through and converted Rachel to optimism, Richard would be uncomfortable to have been right, Victor would be sympathetic, and Tara- Rachel could hear Tara, and didn't have to imagine a reaction.

"She's just making sure that she has set boundaries, Gar." Tara had all the tone Rachel lacked, and would casually loop her arm around him at any given opportunity. Rachel could imagine the scene, but couldn't imagine why it felt like someone was tying knots in her small intestine. "It's nothing personal. She's just always been that way. Just give her space, and everything will be right as rain tomorrow."

Rachel could barely hear Gar. He wasn't broadcasting his voice, but was saying something about how he thought that he had been someone to her. He was approaching, by two sets of footsteps and the slow crescendo of voices. ". . . and she just hit where it hurts, no regrets." He was still talking quietly. He didn't know that sometimes people needed to hear the quietest of remarks, and be able to repeat them double-speed.

"She'll come around, Gar." Tara was soothing, and Rachel was willing to bet no one had ever openly stared to find the edge of a contact or dark roots in that perfect stick of a girl. "You can talk to me. The other Titans will never hear a word." Slade might hear, but she wasn't about to promise that she wouldn't tell an enemy of the Titans his secrets.

"Really?"

"Really. Any time you want to talk, I'll be willing to listen. I really admire how you've handled all this mess." Rachel closed out the world and Tara's flattery, but most of all Gar's stuttered returned compliments. Tara flung aside his offered niceties with false carelessness, saving them for later.

Rachel had things to accomplish. She could read the _Book of Azar _in peace, and ignore Gar's comments. He couldn't understand. This was the only way.

She set the book down when it was time to patrol. She put on her best front, leaving her room. Two violet eyes made contact with two green ones. He glared, she returned her usual expression. He looked away and said something to Tara. Rachel swept from the basement with melodrama completely unlike her to distract from a trouble expression. This was better. Gar could be more open with Tara, and Rachel would only hold him back from all that he could be. She should feel like she had won, as he was doing exactly what she had led him into doing. Instead, it felt like she had lost something- or maybe someone.


	31. Thanksgiving

_For those not familiar with the American tradition of Thanksgiving, I'll give a brief overview. Long ago, when the pilgrims had yet to form anything but chartered colonies, the Englishmen and women were unprepared for winters and new world harvests. The Indians saved their hides. To celebrate, everyone had a giant harvest feast and stuffed themselves silly. Afterabout two centuriesof extorting the Indians, stealing their land, slaughtering various tribes, and introducing many diseases (often intentionally), the holiday to thank God (and those other folks who saved European hides) for survival began at about the time of the Civil War. Today, it's an eating fest. There you have it, folks- a cynic's factualview of American tradition. Thanks to dr.evil99 for detail checks in a few comic personages- there are a few more cameos in the chapter that needed a little extra research._

**Chapter Thirty-One: Thanksgiving**  
Bruce Wayne had never cooked anything more complicated than a frozen pizza in his life. His six planned guests had as much experience as he did. Gar, at least, wouldn't need the turkey that Thanksgiving seemed to require. Gar waseating soy turkey at his home and bringing a bowl of Shelia's infamous cranberry sauce. Shelia had once tipped a bowl over a burglar's head, and the police caught the graying criminal pink-haired.

Selina still refused to answer his calls. Eve had laughed, and Babs had laughed even harder, at his requests for intervention for Thanksgiving. Eve Philips had a family to cook for herself, and Barbara had another date with 'his' family.

It had to come down to this. It wasn't something he could ignore this year. The hotel special wouldn't be enough. He owed his nephew a real Thanksgiving dinner, and knew the one person who could help him. Whether he would was an entirely different matter.

The phone number was probably still the same. He was stalling. He had to get over the past if he wanted to deal with the present- that was what Selina had left in her personalized voice messages, at least.

He finally dialed the number, so late Wednesday night that it was two hours into Turkey Day. The phone rang four times before someone answered with a familiar British accent.

"Good evening, Pennyworth residence." Not even some lunatic calling at two in the morning could ruffle his calm, and there would be no caller identification when voice worked just as well.

"Don't hang up yet- if you give me two minutes, I won't call back."

"I should have known only a Wayne would have such a distorted view of time. Why have you chosen this night to call?"

"I'm sorry, Alfred."

There was a pause. "I do believe you are sincere," he said, easily hiding shock. He knew exactly what Bruce was referring to, and guessed both remembered that fight years ago. "That child you took in just may turn out as something but a hellion, if you will allow me to be frank."

"He was a hellion. His change had nothing to do with me, but he's taking more after me than his father."

"A very nice social call, perhaps, but it's late and I doubt you'd ever call to just chat."

"Thanksgiving is tomorrow, Alfred."

"Actually, it's today," Alfred commented with his typical dryness. "I assume you have procrastinated, as usual, but your intentions are better. I would assume you are not so crass as to hope for a one-day return."

"No, Alfred. I made a mistake, one of many. I'm hoping some can be fixed."

This was a most unexpected turn of events. A discrete pinch proved that the retired butler was fully awake. "Indeed. This one can. I assume my rooms are untouched?"

"Not exactly- they were occasionally dusted."

It was hard to judge Alfred's reaction over the phone, and he was bad enough in person. Even Rachel could learn a few lessons from him, and Bruce was well versed in getting a straight answer from that teenager. One tried and expected to fail. With Alfred, one did not try. "Do you have a turkey?"

"That and nothing else."

There was a second pause, but this was a gathering of thoughts. "I will be there within the hour. If you have not changed the locks, I will let myself in."

Some things never changed. He doubted Alfred ever would. Thirty-seven minutes later, a key turned in a door that hadn't been used for years. He couldn't see his re-hired butler behind a stack of brown bags.

"Selina called," Alfred began. "She mentioned that your nephew is not a delinquent and that you have finally rid yourself of the Talia creature. She then swore creatively for several minutes. Apparently, banter of years past meant nothing, but she did tell me of her new escort."

"You know Selina?" Bruce asked, knowing he shouldn't be surprised. Alfred was giving him a trial period, it seemed, just as he had done for Mrs. Grayson.

"Yes, after she knew your name and address. She waited for you to return one night, and I was pleasantly surprised to find she was an excellent conversationalist, despite her manner of dress. She was kind enough to talk to an elderly man, even about romantic interests, and has kept up a regular correspondence."

"There's nothing romantic about not returning my calls."

"Of course she's not returning your calls," Alfred said, puzzled. "That would be highly inappropriate when she is dating Jean-Paul Valley." Alfred ignored Bruce's incredulous shock. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a dinner to prepare. My services are fully re-engaged?"

"Yes."

"Then matters can be discussed at a more decent hour. You would be wise to get some rest, sir."

Bruce had passed the test, apparently, but was likely still on probation. It would be a good idea to get some sleep, but he never had been the type to sleep soundly. Instead, he called Oracle. Curiosity killed the cat- but satisfaction always brought it back. He talked the instant the ringing stop. "Oracle, I need you to look someone up for me."

Some things never changed, and she doubted he would ever ask politely. "Bruce, it's three in the morning." She yawned, drawing 'three' into an interesting compilation of syllables. "I have parents to meet tomorrow. I need to attempt looking as normal as a gal in a wheelchair can. I need to get along with them- this is important to me."

"Selina's seeing someone else. Alfred told me."

"Alfred? I haven't seen him since your hissy fit ten years ago. Of course she's seeing someone else, Bruce. A girl will only wait so long. Besides her looks- she's a young single rising star fashion designer, and has the money to put her on the cover of that silly magazine. Quite a few people peg you as venustraphobic at the most flattering, Bruce."

"I am not afraid of beautiful woman, Barbara. I have dated over the years, remember? Will you just look him up?"

"You have ten more minutes of my time, Bruce. I detest makeup, and I don't want to have to try to look like a chipper normal person who sleeps at night. I am curious now- name?" Her laptop was up and running. The quiet hum was the usual background for their conversations, and having information to find took away the edge of her early-morning surliness.

"Jean-Paul Valley."

"I've heard of him. Fashion designer. Rich. Young. Famous, even more so by Azrael. He's. . ." she waited a few seconds with the tapping of keys breaking a potentially awkward quiet ". . . twenty-four, so he's five years younger than she is."

"She's twenty-nine?"

"Yes, and you're ten years older than she," Barbara said primly with the manners of her mother's English teaching. "Age is age, Bruce, and I've seen enough of your private e-mail account to know young clients don't think you look your age."

"When?" he asked, resigned to her snooping.

"Years ago, Bruce, when you were off plotting and planning and having a testosterone-only bonding session with the other heroes. What else do young hackers do? I must say, a few of those were a bit-"

Bruce decided to change the topic of conversation. Quickly. "Isn't that Azrael person the person who tried a run as Batman a few years ago? Selina said he was a poor imitation."

"Yes, he was. Right now, you're looking worse. You had your chance- years of them. It's your fault, Bruce, and I'm going back to sleep," she said firmly. If she let him have his way about the conversation, she'd be listening to him angsting all morning. It was a wonder his nephew even had friends at all, with that backdrop all his life.

He remembered his last question. "Barbara, who are you meeting tomorrow? I've never heard much about him."

She caught her surprise. There was no logical way that this would help Batman- maybe Bruce could occasionally talk to Barbara instead of Oracle. "Do you want to meet him? He's heard about you, of course, and my dad has already approved."

"Yes, of course- Alfred's making enough food to feed a large army, unless he's completely changed."

"Bruce?"

"What?"

"Don't try scaring my boyfriendoff. Promise?"

"No."

"I figured as much. His family's dinner is at two. Yours will be at five- that's Alfred's usual time, and he refuses to serve dinner any earlier. We might be a little late, but we'll be there. Good night, Bruce."

He remembered that old exchange. "Good morning, Babs."

Alfred had been discretely listening, as was a butler's job. He wasn't eavesdropping. He was remaining informed. "How many are you expecting, sir?"

"Barbara and her date, me, and six teenagers. Richard lives here, Victor's dad is busy, Rachel's parents have some corporate function or other, Kori tries to stay away from her house whenever possible, Tara doesn't have a foster family nearby- and Gar is bringing his parents along. So, that will be twelve total."

"Twelve, sir?" Alfred would not comment that he had named eleven people. Instead, he would give a carefully disapproving look that he had perfected after years of service in the Wayne household.

"You should join us, to make sure all can compliment your cooking and make sure everyone uses the right fork for their salad. Barbara wants her mystery date to meet you."

"I am curious about your team of teenagers. I would assume the six are the costumed vigilantes milling about?"

"They started without me. My basement is more secure than Victor's house. Richard has the same knack for fighting his father had, with the same streak of family legacy. He was behind the Red X crisis."

"Oh?" Alfred often pretended indifference. It was the best way to get a good story.

"He nearly lost his team. He was grounded from all but minimum training for two weeks. He'll never try a stunt like that again, I bet. He nearly was charged- Barbara was the maddest I've ever seen her. She saw the injuries on the other Titans from their first fight."

Alfred kept his voice neutral. "Did he inherit the Wayne tendency for obsessions?"

The mild question was expected. "Yes, but his mother was almost as bad. I only met her a few times, but she was someone else. She kept my brother under control, which is saying something."

Alfred had impeccable manners, and would never ask. He would, naturally, listen, but only when information was offered.

"She left my brother when Richard was young- I don't even remember exactly when that was, but I think Richard was four. He thought she'd come back, even until the day she died. She was the one girl who ever did the leaving. She raised her child and did her acrobatics, but never could juggle her career, her son, and my brother." Bruce had only a few recollections of the wildfire of a woman, and most were related to the Roma blood she wore on her skin.

"Did she take the family name?"

"No, and Richard has her name. Grayson was her last name, not my brother's pseudonym of the week. He didn't want Richard connected to him too much. She never did forgive her mother for taking a name that wasn't completely Gypsy, as far as I remember."

"Have you spoken to Robin about her?" Alfred could guess the answer to that query.

"Robin?" Bruce didn't know what had brought that name into the conversation.

"She only called him Richard when she was angry, and her small rages never lasted long, as I recall. She called him Robin when not in a temper."

"Didn't you meet her once?" Bruce didn't know how Alfred retained all those small details, and knew the butler would never explain.

"I was not distracted with your brother, and I doubt that you have ever told Richard about his mother. His father wouldn't have- he was still waiting for her to come back to him the day that he was killed."

"No, I haven't told him. I've only really known him since September. What do I say? I know next to nothing about one of the most important people in his life."

"Have you looked in the family archive, sir?"

"All the nonsense my father started?"

"Yes, the 'nonsense' has a few useful items. A wedding announcement, pictures, a birth announcement, baby pictures, and a few pictures of the Grayson family." Alfred should have known the Wayne archives would be gathering dust.

"Could you talk to him, when you're not busy?"

"I assume you mean when I am not elbow-deep in a turkey." Alfred always maintained his dignity, even when grappling with overly large poultry. Ever sensible, he had continued preparations through the conversation.

"Yes."

"I will give a few details, but it is your job to perform. I'm the butler, not his guardian- and it would mean more, coming from you. I've never met the lad- at least, not when he was old enough to remember."

"I know, Alfred. I am sorry, about all that happened years ago." He had no way to authenticate the apology, except. . . "Harley called me yesterday, about Gar, and said that I'm not half as bad as I used to be. Pam agrees."

"Harley and Dr. Isley?" Alfred prompted.

"Technically, they're both doctors. Pam just won't let anyone forget it."

"How have you improved, exactly?"

"Babs has been grilling me for years. Harley decided that I was improved after Barbara and I designed a thank-you card for Pamela, in honor of her killing of the Joker."

Alfred didn't appear surprised, the mark of a professional. In the Wayne household, he had been through years of practice. "I did stay with Barbara during her physical therapy, as I am used to people who are exceedingly moody in their demands. She agrees that you have improved- but you still have the same sleeping habits."

"It seems rude, to go to sleep while you're working."

Alfred used his sternest disapproving glare, and was very gratified to find that it still worked. "Go to bed. You'll have a full house tomorrow, and you come out more tired from dinner parties than you do from entire nights skulking about in the ridiculous get-up you call a costume."

"It's good to have you back, Alfred."

"It is good to see that you have recovered your senses. Good night." Alfred listened to make sure Bruce was not up to his old tricks. American traditions were something he rarely appreciated, but Thanksgiving was one holiday that appreciated a good chef. All was quiet on the household front, so Alfred allowed himself a pleased smile. He could make a fine British turkey- even if Bruce did know the difference, he wouldn't tell.

**.Turkey Day.**  
The dinner started out grandly. Six teenagers arrived on time and in dress proper enough that Alfred had no cutting comments to deliver. The two foster parents were polite, and neither balked at the spread. They merely excused themselves for having eaten soy turkey, and paid attention as Alfred pointed out the vegan dishes.

Gar was beside his foster parents and Tara. Richard and Kori sat beside each other, and helped Victor's attempts to bring Rachel to her usual level of grouchiness. Everything was fine until a package arrived for Tara, from Selina.

Bruce stopped his conversation with Harry mid-sentence. The clench in his jaw was probably obvious clear from the HIVE's side of town. Kori and Tara admired the uniform. Rachel glared. Shelia had not heard about a new conflict, and looked past Henry. Gar knew that he had been leaving out a few details about the team's dynamic, and tried to focus on his cranberry sauce. Rachel, equally absorbed in toying with cranberry sauce, felt that attention had shifted to her.

Kori saved the conversation with a few quick questions about the holiday. The friendly argument about pilgrims almost drew Rachel into civil conversation. That was before the unexpected guests arrived, ruining the chance of a debate about whether the turkey suggested by Benjamin Franklin would have made a better national bird than the bald eagle.

Barbara Gordon was letting her companion push her wheelchair as she balanced a platter of lopsided cookies. If he had been wearing a sign, he wouldn't have been more obvious as 'him.' Bruce knew that the relationship was serious instantly- not just anyone earned the honor of pushing the chair, even when Barbara had no free hands.

Babs took the space beside Alfred once her burden was set on the table. "Happy thanksgiving, everyone! I'm sorry we're late, but his parents were busy force-feeding me. Bruce, I'd like you to meet Timothy Drake. Tim, Bruce. He's working on a master's degree in journalism, and figured out your alter-ego before I started dating him. I only figured it out when his private online journal tagged too many hitwords for my security program to ignore."

"How?" Bruce asked, suspicious.

"Batman had to be someone rich living in Forston," Tim began. "The strict moral sense and the frequent friendly encounters with Catwoman meant that the man was a bachelor, and locations pegged the likely hero inside Forest Gates. A few years of party guest lists gave me all the clues I needed. That was just a little side-work. I'm in journalism, but only because there's no money in detective work unless you can find an opening."

Bruce couldn't find a fault with Tim. He was polite, clean, conscientious- and Barbara would leave Bruce out of the loop for at least a week if there was an obvious problem between Tim and Bruce. Bruce wasn't ready for the dramatic shift in conversation that happened as soon as Rachel left for her room.

"Somebody needs to talk with Rachel, and that wouldn't be me," Richard said, speaking quickly. Barbara, Bruce, Shelia, Harry, Alfred, and Tim were listening, but they all were trusted by at least one Titan. That was enough.

"I've never seen her like this," Victor said. "I've tried to talk to her, but I get nothing out of her. Literally. She's never shut me out this well before."

"I also have attempted, but she declined an invitation to venture to the mall of shopping." Kori knew who could talk to her with a better chance of results, and his name started with a G and ended with an arfield.

"I think I'm making her mad, at least partially," Tara said. "She doesn't like me."

"She doesn't trust many people. You might have to work a little harder, since you weren't in this from the beginning. Once she does trust you, you'll have a friend." Victor hadn't expected Rachel to accept Tara quickly. Tara was nice, but that would do nothing to change Rachel's mind.

"Why is everyone looking at me?" Gar asked. He knew their answer.

"Good luck," Shelia offered.

"I'm beginning to think you want me dead. Trust me- it wouldn't work. The last time I talked to her when she was like this- it didn't turn out well, and I've never heard her talk like that. I'm not doing it." Gar wouldn't budge.

"She needs you to speak with her," Kori said quietly. "I do not know what she said, but if it was anything bad, I believe that she would feel most regretful."

"I'm not talking with her. It's Thanksgiving, and I'm not going to ruin everyone's day by starting the reprise of our grand fight." He hadn't noticed that he had raised his voice, and had never noticed the air vents that led to the basement. "Even if she does regret what she said- she still said it, and part of it was true." He stormed away, leaving two thoughtful foster parents, four stunned friends, one butler who never was perturbed, one brooding mentor, one shocked Oracle who hadn't predicted that explosion, and a frowning reporter.

"Let me try," Tim said. "She might need a third party. I'm the investigative detective wannabe, and I'm pretty good at convincing people to talk."

"Are you sure?" Barbara asked. "She can be hard to deal with, at times, but that's just her personality. I admire her, really- she's one tough girl."

He shrugged. "I don't know much about her, she doesn't know much about me, and reporters take all kinds of grief. Save a piece of pumpkin pie for me, will you? And onefor the lady, too- she might want one when she comes up."

Barbara smiled. "That's the arrogant reporter I know and love- go on, go talk to her."

Tim lost a little of his bravery in finding the stairs. He had never guessed that staircases would open behind grandfather clocks, but it fit. He followed directions to find the collection of rooms, and the perfectly formed block letters in drab purple caught his eye. He leaned nonchalantly against the adjoining wall. "Let's start by being completely honest, Miss Roth. I have nothing to gain from this conversation but some credit with a Mr. Wayne, who's as good as a second guardian for Barbara. If I would tell anyone else anything, I wouldn't be here."

"That's very nice, I'm sure, but you can get just as many brownie points if I throw a weighty object at your head. Then, you have the additional bonus of having Barbara nurse you back to health." Rachel did not want to deal with a family holiday.

He laughed. "How about this- I'll tell you how I met Barbara, and then you can tell me what you'd throw at me. I did a few years of investigating, just as a hobby, and ended up with Bruce Wayne as Batman. That ran a few flags up in Oracle's net that goes all around Forston. The next thing I know, my entire computer freezes up and the digital camera I had linked starts transmitting like mad. She took my entire address book to figure out where I lived, and took two weeks to check me for a criminal record. After all that, I met a stunning woman while I was writing a back-page blurb."

"Am I supposed to be interested?"

"With company I've had, a door is friendly. If you start aiming crossbows at me like the people at the medieval demonstration, I'll have to reconsider. Barbara ran over my toes when I wouldn't leave her alone- it was love at first break. She overestimated the strength of a starving reporter's shoes, and then was kind enough to direct me to the nearest hospital before warning me to not stand too close to her desk."

"Is there a purpose, or do you enjoy making friendly conversation with doors? I heard what was yelled upstairs. There is not going to be some storybook Thanksgiving reconciliation, even if there is a point to your story."

"She hated me," Tim continued, as if she was interested in her story. "I returned the favor for a few weeks, and dreaded going to the station to deal with the crazy lady in the wheelchair. The second time I met her, we had a screaming fight that almost resulted in the police chief using mace on me. It took us over a month to figure out that we weren't mad at each other at all- she knew that I wasn't planning to tell the world about Bruce, and I learned that she was still getting used to maneuvering a wheelchair."

"What is this? If you're going to say that I overestimated what I said- I didn't. I was completely nasty, and that won't change." Rachel looked around her room. "I do have something I would throw at you, for making sense. You do realize that if you hadn't taken the time to see that she was new with wheels, or if she hadn't known for sure you could keep a secret, you would have had a final fight and gone your separate ways."

"Yes." Now he was curious. "What would you throw at me?"

"The irritation won me a giant chicken at a fair we went to. He has his moments when he's almost sweet- and then he remembers himself." She opened her door, narrowing her eyes in her best intimidating glare. "If you let one smug comment out, I will fetch the chicken."

He had to smile at that. "You have to admit that's funny, Miss Roth."

"Rachel- unless you want me to call you Mr. Drake all night. Here are my terms- no one is going to mention a fight, no one will complain if I refrain from conversing with two people I would very much like to ignore, and no one will take the last piece of apple pie before I've had dessert." She wasn't ready to try making up for what she had said, but she was ready to spend Thanksgiving with friends, no matter how shaky the friendships.

He agreed, and they went up the stairs together. She took her seat at the table, with a slice of apple pie. She ignored a set of shocked looks, and instead looked across the table. "Gar? Would you pass the vanilla ice cream, please?"

"Sure." He still couldn't forget what she had said, but they could be civil. It was Thanksgiving, after all- and there would be another time for the confrontation that would come. It wouldn't hurt to talk to Tim- any tips for getting out of a talk with Rachel without any wounds to the ego would be very helpful.


	32. Finding the Center

_Thanks to the pestering of Kayasuri-n (dr.evil99- the encouragement's lovely, but it was pestering power that finally convinced me), this chapter is extremely long. It easily could have been two chapters, but why make people wait? This was written around the time constraints of a months-long research project's presentation and studying for midterms, so the next chapter might be late. Delays aren't guaranteed, but I don't want to get false hopes up. The moral of the story is- if Call flunks her midterms because she wrote stories for all the lovely readers, then Call loses computer privileges for a couple weeks. Studying is preventative maintenance, not a deliberate attempt to slow down the next chapter._

_On request of a reviewer, here are my thoughts on flaming. Criticism is not evil. Some of the best reviews I have received have pointed out a few areas that I could improve in. Some are occasionally lists of my many grammar errors, typos, and nonsensical sentences (thanks, Kay). When pointing out flaws, please find something positive to say. Flames written in grammar poorer than the critiqued story are useless wastes of binary strings, but a thought out and well-written derogatory review can actually help you become a better writing. The hardest part of writing is admitting where you could stand to improve- so if your flamer is the type that writes "you" instead of "u" and offers a few ways to improve, maybe you're not being flamed. Or- maybe someone had a bad day and wants to take it out on you. Every circumstance is different- and if you want to flame my take on flames, go ahead. My opinion won't change, and the same goes for pairings and the way I choose to write a plot. You can't please everyone. _

_A final thanks goes to Kayasuri-N for editing this monster of a chapter, the most fascist editor a gal could hope for. Thanks, Kay (and Lynch and Erik, if they helped)._

**Chapter Thirty-Two: Finding the Center**  
Victor had been playing soccer since before he had the coordination to stand up and kick. He had never played in a game like the one in his back yard that Saturday. The cold November weather had nothing to do with the odd unbalance, and the three-on-three game wasn't going well. After drawing straws, Rachel, Gar, and Tara were on the same team. Victor knew that wouldn't turn out well before Richard ran a goal from the kick-off straight through Rachel and Tara.

Rachel was playing midfield like a third-grader, watching the ball breeze past her. Tara wasn't passing, even when Kori and Richard had her cornered. Victor had retreated to keeper after his eighth goal. Gar looked lost, trying to figure out why two teammates were ignoring everyone. Kori and Richard had given up and were running passing drills- it made no difference to the game.

Gar finally left backfield to talk to Tara. "I don't know if I can ask this of anyone, but the feud between you and Rachel is throwing off the whole team. I've tried calling her a few times, and she won't talk to me. The team's drifting, and people are beginning to choose sides."

Tara watched Rachel for a few seconds. "We both have a few issues with trust. I met her before I joined the team, and a little history came up. Let's just say we have a little too much information on each other, and we're in the middle of a hostile truce."

"I won't ask, but I feel like I can't be friends with both of you. I don't want to have to choose." Gar couldn't begin to think of how he would make that choice. Tara was friendly and had a sense of humor that he loved, and they always had something to talk about. Rachel- she was untouchable, but he still wanted to try to prove that she wasn't as prickly as she tried to be.

It would be important for the Titans to stay together. She wasn't sure exactly why, but her instructions were certain. "I'll talk to her, and I couldn't tell her secret without giving her the right to tell mine. Nothing's illegal, for either of us. It's just- personal." Tara was nineteen and a legal adult, and being someone's child didn't break any laws.

Gar expected nothing more revealing. Tara said nothing. Instead, she took the ignored ball and ran it down the field and sent a beautiful pass in Rachel's direction. Rachel was surprised, but instinct let her react without thought. Rachel passed back, and Tara scored the goal with a corner hooked shot that would intimidate even a keeper who wasn't in unconcealed shock.

That was enough. A quick talk in the midst of the game wasn't heard by anyone else, but the shaky truce was abandoned. They simply would not betray the secret of the other, and the consequence would not even need to be mentioned. Rachel and Tara, Tara and Rachel- they didn't even need a third teammate to come back from a devastating score. Their secrets were too big for anything but trust.

"Friends?" Tara asked. The others were providing space; no one wanted to interfere with this conversation. "I'm straightening out, Rachel, and this team means a lot to me. I won't hope for complete trust, but I'll watch your back in a fight."

Rachel had never taken a chance like this before. "Friends- and we didn't do so badly, getting to know each other. It took me a full month to stop hating Gar." The entire team heard the last statement. It was an exaggeration, but they didn't have to know that. She felt a twinge of guilt when his face fell, but he quickly found the positive implication.

"You don't hate me anymore, then." Gar grinned. It was a start, even if it wasn't much of anything.

"No, I don't." Rachel didn't understand why he was smiling so happily, but just guessed it was part of being an optimist- Kori was smiling, too. "Want to celebrate the Kodak moment? Pizza, my treat," Rachel offered, a first. The Titans were together again, and Rachel meant to keep them that way.

**.Surprise.**  
Rachel called Kori on the communicators first. She didn't care who heard, but checked to make sure that Victor wasn't available first. "Kori, is it the eighth of December?" Rachel hadn't been paying attention to the date.

"Yes."

"It's Victor's birthday." Rachel had a decent memory for dates, when she remembered to glance at a calendar for the current one. "He didn't tell anyone, but I'm sure. Do you want to tell the others?"

"You can call Tara and Gar. I am at Richard's house, and we can pitch a party that is a surprise to celebrate Victor's day of birth." Kori didn't need to explain what was happening a second time- Richard could hear the exchange.

"I'll call Tara," Rachel said.

"Your continued feud with Garfield injures the team, Rachel. He spoke to you on a bad day, you said very hurtful things. You both wish to fix the matter." Kori addressed her friend sternly through the video communication Victor had perfected as an early Christmas present.

"I like the current arrangement," Rachel lied.

"No, you don't." Kori knew there were times to allow people their space. This wasn't one of them. "You two will solve your dispute, or I will ensure that both of you are miserable at this party."

Rachel had never been threatened by Kori before. "Do you think I haven't heard worse? He and Victor saw my father, Kori. I'm not going to go cry and make up just because you and the rest of the team want to see me sentimental."

"Rachel, you are hurting the person you wish to protect. We need all the Titans together, just like we were before. If you and friend Tara can reconcile, then I am sure that you can resolve your differences with Gar."

"I've said enough, Kori."

"You cannot unsay anything, Rachel, but you can apologize. It is not yet too late, but it may be later."

"I can't promise anything."

Kori accepted that statement. That was better than a refusal. "I thank you for being willing to try. I will call friend Tara."

"What about presents?" Rachel asked.

"Those can be delayed a few days- he gave us no notice. Maybe being there will be enough." Kori knew that was a ploy to buy time- she had no idea what electronics to get for Victor.

"Call him- if his dad's out, we can go to his house." Rachel doubted that Mr. Stone would be home. Christmas was one of the few days of the year that required leaving the lab. "Kori- is this on speaker?"

"Yes, and-"

"That's good. I want an audience. Richard, buy a store cake from the corner market. Chocolate with whipped cream icing- that's what his mom used to buy, and she did not let it get anywhere near mustard. Someone should call Bee, too." Rachel didn't know why Victor's girlfriend was an afterthought.

"We will," Kori promised. "It is good of you to remember such details, and we will have time. Perhaps you are delaying what you should do."

Rachel would save grumbling about Kori's tendency to be perceptive for later. "Kori, I have time, too. I'll handle presents after I call him."

"Of course," Kori agreed. "I shall see you later. We can all meet here at thirty minutes past six and go to his house to bring the party of surprise to him." Richard had already established that Mr. Stone was out.

Rachel spent at least half an hour staring at the communicator. She hated making the first move in such matters. She fought with people frequently, but hardly ever had to reconcile differences. She finally decided that Kori would own blame or credit. She had crossed a line. It wasn't Gar's fault that Rachel had doubted Tara's intentions. She punched a pair of buttons before she lost her change of mind.

"Gar? Are you there?"

He couldn't believe that she called- it had to be her. No one could fake that voice. "Y-yeah, I'm here. What's up, Rachel?" He forgot that they were fighting for a few seconds, but quickly remembered to be defensive. He wouldn't let her win just because she had the potential to be mean.

"I never have figured out how to respond to that colloquial phrase. The ceiling is 'up,' the sky is 'up', the average global temperature is 'up'. As for current events, the usual information requested, it's Victor's birthday. We're having a surprise party for him, and the Titans are meeting at Richard's at 6:30 so we can head over to Victor's house together."

"You're not hanging up already, are you?" he asked suspiciously. There was too much finality in what she had said.

"So what if I am? Talk to Tara."

"Is that what we've come to?"

"Ye- maybe- I don't know. Usually people stay away, after-" She stopped the sentence, knowing that he could figure out what she was talking about. She hadn't opened the screen on her phone, as usual, and gave no audible clues.

"After you shove them away, people probably do."

She had never heard anyone state the fact so simply. Not even the psychiatrists schools occasionally hired came that close. "That's the idea." The words escaped, and there was no calling them back.

"You can't win every time." He paused. She had nothing to add, so he continued. "Part of what you said was true, though, and-"

"If any of it was true, I exaggerated to the point that it was false. That is no excuse," she told her communicator. If she was just dealing with a voice, it was easier to say the right things without the wrong facial expressions.

"Really, I like that about you. No one else is completely honest, even when it is taken to the extreme. I'm used to people being the same, and you're different."

"Yeah, I'm different." He said it as if it were a compliment. Rachel wasn't sure. "You know, if this is your way of getting back to where we were- things have changed. You and Tara- you have someone, and you can't just ignore her." Rachel imagined herself detached from the conversation. The fight was over, and he would be a friend again. He would just be a friend with less time to pester her.

"That doesn't mean you can start becoming a hermit. I doubt you'd fit the classic look."

"Oh?" She gave him a chance, but at the first mention of purple-

"Hermits are usually delusional, unkempt, and bearded. Even the ladies grow beards after living on raw beetles for so long," he said, completely serious as he made up facts. "Besides, it would be hard for you to keep your books and herbal tea safe from mildew and the assorted cave creatures that would live around you."

"I take it this means you will still be overly concerned with my preference for solitude?" she asked. If a tiny smile almost quirked her lips, he wouldn't know. A careful balance was restored, and she felt a few tensions relax.

"Naturally. What are you getting Victor, for his birthday?" he asked.

"I think we could all chip in. I'll get actual collapsible nets- the ones we have are two good shots from breaking. Richard could get cleats, maybe- I doubt he'd have another idea."

"A new ball, probably- someone could pick up one of those." Gar knew their current soccer ball was very beleaguered. "I'll cover that- and if anyone so much as mentions money, I will find them and sock them in the jaw."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I know that you were in the hospital a lot last week, and no one would think-"

"That's covered."

Rachel, miles away, asked right away. "How? I've been in the hospital a few times, and procedures add up fast."

"I don't know," he admitted, embarrassed. "It was a mystery benefactor. Have you heard any rumors? You seem to hear about everything."

"I haven't heard any rumors at all," she said. "I'll call Kori back- she was thinking that presents could be delayed, but I think he could get them today. Tara and Kori could just add to the list, and we could pick up the stuff."

"Do you want me to come shopping with you?" he asked, confused.

"If you don't want to," she said quickly, "I-"

"No, I want to," he said, cutting her off. "A soccer net would be hard to lug around."

"I can bring a car. My father's been after me to drive more. I have a car sitting in the garage, but I like riding with everyone else." Her father watched her spending, but said the money was hers to squander.

"You are social, see?" he announced triumphantly. "I'll make you laugh soon enough, Rachel Roth."

Even across town, she knew he would be twisting a moustache he didn't have. He always did, whenever using that fake accent. "Yeah. And I'll turn into a fairy godmother, wave my wand, and get Richard to ask Kori out someday."

"Would you?" he asked, partly serious. If anyone could do that without bloodshed, he guessed it would be Rachel. "That'd be great."

She ignored his comment. "I'll be at your house in twenty minutes. You do want to come?"

"The alternative is sitting around. Even if the other option was test-running a new game, I'd want to go with you. I could write a documentary about shopping with Rachel Roth, make four dollars, and buy four hundred rides on the little automated horses by the grocery store checkouts."

"Gar. Tell me that was a bad joke."

"It was- are you kidding? I'd save it in the hopes of affording college, so I'm not in debt the rest of my life. If I can't afford college, I'll end up with some job somewhere around here while you go off to be a doctor."

"I am not going into medicine," she said again, dismissing that topic. "You'll get scholarships. Besides, if all else fails, write a college application essay about your greatest adversity- getting rid of tailing cliques."

He laughed, even if she was giving him a subtle dig. The Titans often remarked he had more trouble with people than he did with cancer. "I'll be ready when you show up, Rachel- as long as you don't bring a clique with you."

"I solemnly swear that Kitty Moth and Connie Anders will be nowhere near my car." She disconnected with that, disgruntled with the idea. She might not be very protective of her car, especially compared to Victor's devotion to his 'baby,' but she had her standards.

**.Shock.**  
Even Richard was surprised when Rachel pulled into his driveway. She had mentioned shopping with Gar, the gift theme, and that she had a car. They had expected something nice- she did live in a rich neighborhood, in one of the houses in the area. Not one Titan had expected a mint Mercedes.

"This was sitting around in your driveway," Richard said. "You had a Mercedes-Benz SL just 'sitting around?'" he demanded.

"It's an SL 65 AMG. I do know what it is, Richard." Rachel was tired of the reactions to her car already. She knew she should have borrowed the Taurus. The nondescript blue car wasn't very luxurious, but it didn't cause this sort of fuss.

Gar laughed. "I'd like to see her garage- there's probably a still-running Model T next to the Ferraris. We have everything for Victor in the trunk- cleats, the net, two balls, retractable side-lines, and the soccer Gamestation cartridge Tara recommended."

"Get in before we're late." Rachel was more than ready for people to stop looking at her car. "Richard, do you want to drive? Your eyes are a little glazed over."

"Are you kidding?" Richard quickly accepted the offer. Bruce kept serviceable cars, and no one but Bruce himself and Alfred were allowed near the Batmobile. "No one else wants a shot?"

"No," Kori and Tara chorused. Kori had no interest in driving when she could giggle at Richard's fascination with the car, and Tara did not want to cause damage. That would be hard to explain. She'd been giving Slade next to no information for two days, and he would not be happy to know that things were happening.

"My reflexes are still a little off, and this car is not something I want on my conscience." Gar had already refused an offer to drive. He abandoned the front passenger seat to squeeze in the back with Tara and Kori. Rachel took shotgun by default- everyone else was busy taking no responsibility. _Definitely should have taken the Taurus._

No one but Victor was home, as expected. Richard glanced to the others for confirmation. Bee would join them later, Kori didn't know what Richard wanted to know, Gar gave a thumbs-up, Tara grinned, and Rachel nodded.

The horn blared. After a few seconds, the sound repeated as the people in the back seat took a turn. Just to be sure Victor heard the cacophony in his driveway, Rachel activated the burglar alarm. The combination of shrieks, whistles, and an automotive horn quickly brought someone to the window. He watched as five people seated in a sports car waved.

_No way. _He stepped outside, and a chorus of "Surprise!" added to the chaos nearly knocked him over. His leg continued to vibrate even after the noise ceased.

"Who told you?" Victor didn't want a fuss. That had been his mother's department, and she had called the day before to warn him that his birthday card would be a day late.

"You did, a few years back." Rachel opened the trunk. The poor salesperson that had dealt with an odd pair had gift wrapped all items, even the net. "Help us with the presents, will you? Kori and Richard are on food detail."

"Eighteen, then?" Gar asked. "You're old now. Laugh all you want today, but when you hit eighty, I'll be the seventy-eight year old getting all the ladies," he teased.

"You'll make up all your flirting then, will you?" Victor retorted. "Someone could have warned me- lucky for you guys, I just put Swordbout VI into the Gamestation. If I'd already started, you could have set a bomb off in the driveway and I would have ignored you."

"Then it wouldn't have been a surprise," Richard argued. "Wait- Swordbout _VI? _III just hit mass market."

"My dad's research buddy is a programmer, and I'm an unofficial tester."

"How many players?" Richard asked.

"Four," Victor said.

"If friend Rachel does not mind, the rest of us can take turns playing," Kori said. They had long ago given up on persuading Rachel that video games had merits. Rachel had promised that, if she ever felt interested, she would ask for a turn.

"You might as well have fun- odd girl out and all that." Rachel didn't mind. "The rest of you just better break for cake and presents- and I think a few should be tested out. I know Tara promised that her present should wait."

"Where is friend Tara?" Kori asked.

"I'm here," Tara said, coming in from the patio. "My boss from work called. Sorry, Vic- they need me to come in. I usually only work days, but the nightshift pair cancelled at the last minute."

Rachel gave her a quick glance. "I thought you were done with night lessons, Tara."

"I am done, Rachel- I'm through with that place," Tara lied. She had a job to do, and night lessons were among the best benefits.

"I'll always say there isn't any benefit to working that line." Rachel kept the secret. Tara had to know that there was nothing there for her.

"I know, Rachel." _Of course you'll say that- you're jealous he chose me. _

Gar looked at Tara, Rachel, and then the other Titans. "Did anyone but them follow that?"

"No."

"No."

"I do not think that trailing a conversation is something I did."

Rachel watched Tara leave. "Maybe, someday, she'll tell you."

"No hints?" Richard asked.

"No hints. Everyone has their secrets."

**.Secret.**  
Tara collapsed into a chair. She was the last Titan to arrive for a Saturday morning practice, and had no energy for it. A fighting session with Slade drained her completely. "I don't know what's worse- work or our practice-happy fearless leader."

"You did switch bosses?" Rachel was friends with Tara. That didn't mean that Rachel could bring herself to trust her new teammate completely.

"We've been over this- that guy is past." Tara kept to a friendly tone. She remained loyal to Slade. His Red X had gone to Angelina's with four friends, and that had been enough for Slade to follow an old apprentice. Tara would not betray him- she would remain loyal. She had set priorities, unlike the traitor. "I wouldn't waste my time, Rachel."

"Are we ready to start?" Richard asked.

"Not just yet," Victor said. "It's December fourteenth, and even if we all don't happen to celebrate Christmas, a gift exchange could be fun."

Tara named the main objection. "I'm not buying for everyone- we have enough people for a Secret Santa exchange, the fun way."

"The fun way?" Gar asked.

"Each guy has to get a present for a girl, and each girl buys for a guy. That way, everyone only has one present to buy." Tara had heard of the game before, and the blushes developing on a few faces made the idea worth a mention.

"Any limits on spending?" Richard asked.

"Twenty dollars." Tara was the self-appointed expert. "That's how much I can spare."

"It sounds most fun." Kori had her own question. "How will we choose who buys for whom?"

"Girls and guys can do that on their own. We can use your room, Kori." Tara's still had a few communicators lying about, and Rachel was sensitive about her privacy. "We could do a drawing," Tara said in the relative safely of Kori's room.

Kori wrote a name on three slips of paper. "Tara, do you wish to draw first?"

"Sure." Tara picked the paper that seemed lucky. "Richard- what would he want? Dumbbells?"

Kori laughed. "Perhaps." Rachel was not interested, so Kori chose a slip of paper. Kori read the name quietly, just in case any were listening. "Victor."

Rachel knew who that left, but still read from the paper. "Garfield."

"We can go to the mall together," Kori suggested. "I know what Richard would like, Rachel knows Victor, and Tara can help with seeking a gift for Gar." The other two agreed, and strategies were compared.

The guys of the group had a different strategy proposed by Victor. "Richard, in the eventual future, you might finally get the guts to ask Kori out. You buy her a present. Gar, you're dating Tara. I probably can find something Rachel will like, even if she's the most unenthusiastic receiver in the bunch."

"That's settled, then." Richard chose to ignore a few points. "Is everyone ready for practice so we can see if the girls are done?" Of course he looked at Kori differently. Kori was beautiful, not that Tara and Rachel weren't, in their own ways, but Kori was the girl he always ended up staring at. She never commented, and only flushed and smiled. That didn't mean anything, of course- did it?

**.Calm.**  
"Trouble and her accomplice are headed this way, Kori," Rachel announced at lunch. "Kitty doesn't have any glitter today, but Connie's smiling."

Kori sighed. "My luck is just." She rethought her words. "Was that correct, Richard?"

"You were close, Kori- just my luck." He didn't know exactly how it had happened, but Richard had become Kori's chief tutor in modern English and all sayings a teenager should know.

"It's your luck, too," Kori said, guessing why her sister was approaching. "Connie has decided that you are her next target."

"Target?" Richard didn't like the sound of that.

"She wishes to court you," Kori said, leaving no opening to understand the words before Connie pounced.

"Richard Grayson," Connie almost purred.

"Connie-"

She wouldn't let him finish. "I know we haven't crossed paths before, Richard, but-"

He returned the favor and interrupted her. "Gym, freshman year, and trig sophomore year when the substitute teacher was some British nut loose from an asylum- luckily, you didn't talk to me. If you want to start a conversation now, I believe you will be disappointed."

"What poison has my poor little sister spilled in your ear?"

"No poison, Connie."

"Connie, leave this table." Kori remembered the years of unintended resentment. "You are not welcome."

"Little sister, you always were foolish. I am busy right now, and you will have no say," Connie hissed.

Richard had heard enough to guess what Connie wanted. "Connie, I'm not going to be your date of the month."

"Perhaps a date for the night?" Connie asked, reaching out to him.

He held her off at the wrist. "No."

"Kori hasn't made a move, has she? In cultures we know, the woman makes the first sign. What you see in her, I have." Connie didn't pull away.

"I usually like human decency in a person," Richard stated, dropping Connie's wrist.

Kori could see, or maybe imagine, his resolve begin to weaken- she knew what Connie could do. "Connie-" she began.

"You had your chance. You never did know the language of such matters. If you felt attraction, he can't know of the pictures you kept." Connie left a few hints lying about- it wasn't her fault Kori hadn't given any signals.

"Kori?" Richard asked.

"My poor little sister- he had no idea? Such a pity, Kori- you should have stayed in Africa." Connie moved a little closer, and no one thought to stop her.

"Connie, you do not have say in my life, and will not try to force your life over mind mine. I will not be intimidating by your bullying. Maybe I am uncertain about the words American courtship requires. I know that actions speak louder than words, even in a land of phones that are from cells."

"You're not brave enough, Kori," Connie spat. "You never were."

"I have touched a sleeping lion. I have watched a crocodile lunge. I have won respect of the Masai _Moran._" Kori listed accomplishments, steel-eyed.

"You won't ride the lion." Connie had heard the English-based story of a man who rode a lion into legend. No one else had- the Titans were lost in a battle between the sisters, and Kitty Moth was still valiantly trying to look as if she understood what was happening.

"I don't need to," Kori said. For once, she was calm. She felt insecurity and fear fade when she considered the only possible action. It was just like her _Masai _friend had told her, and Kori felt that she had passed her test of bravery. She had faced the fire, and the only action left was obvious. "Words are not a requirement."

She kissed him. The contact was brief, a glimpse of lips. Kori turned to face her sister, and no more words were needed. Kori spun on her heel and left with a determined stride. Connie, after a moment, headed in the opposite direction as she snapped at Kitten to follow. Richard had yet to move.

Victor was the first to recover. "Why are you still standing here? Go talk to her before she convinces herself you're mad." Victor loosed a grin when their fearless leader was safely out of sight.

"What did I miss?" Bee asked, sliding beside Victor.

"Not much." Rachel always deadpanned, and no one else felt they could top her impending summary of events. "Kori stood up to her dragon of a sister and kissed Richard, that's all."

"What?" Bee asked. The Titans began to explain, and Rachel returned to her book. Romance was overly explained until the descriptions did not match the event, and that wasn't what she wanted to hear. She would rather hear what Kori and Richard had to say.

**.After the Calm.**  
"Kori?" He waited for a minute. "I've checked the library, the nurse's office, and all the study halls. This is the only ladies' room without the rude graffiti you usually ask me about, after Rachel refused to comment, so it's logical that you'd be here. You can't just do a thing like that and expect to not hear about it again." He still only heard silence. "I could talk to thin air, but I'd rather to talk to you."

"I'm sorry."

"You're _sorry?_" He shouldn't have come. He hadn't known someone could punch him without making contact. If he'd known she would say that, he wouldn't have come.

"I acted in anger."

"Otherwise you wouldn't have," he guessed. She didn't need to say it.

Kori peered around the corner. He was looking away from her- and she had never seen him with an expression like that. She took a deep breath. This was the real bravery. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have had the courage. I've wanted to do something similar for a long time."

"So have I, but I never had the bright idea that you wouldn't mind," he said, very glad he had a nice wall to lean on. He had never appreciated cinderblocks so much in his life.

"Are we dating now?" she asked.

He almost choked on air. "Yes, if you want to."

"I would very much like to."

**.Chance.**  
Rachel found out by accident. She had been ignoring Connie's monologue that lasted through the whole of her last hour, but one shrill phrase was worth listening to. "Just because it's Kori's birthday, she thinks she can get away with anything."

_Another birthday, and we're staying with our don't-tell record. Great. What to get for the girl who likes everything? _Rachel found Victor after school. "It's Kori's birthday, and we need another impromptu party."

"That's it, people are writing their birthdays down," Gar said, hearing the statement. "Are the new lovebirds still together?"

Rachel saw them. "They're still holding hands- Kori looks more blessed than usual, Richard looks happy. He already mentioned walking her home- it's only below freezing."

"What kind of cake does Kori like?" Victor asked.

Rachel had a dangerous almost-smile on her face. "I know just the one."

**.Second Eighteen.**  
"A Starfire cake! Glorious!" Kori laughed at the artwork. An enterprising cake decorator had created a decent portrait, even when forced to substitute orange frosting for a more realistic flesh tone.

Tara's phone rang, interrupting celebrations. "Can't you stay this time?" Gar asked. "You work all day."

Tara was about to refuse, but changed her mind. "I'll talk to him."

"I thought Debbie was your boss."

"She is, Gar, but it's the supervisor who calls me in," she lied, covering her slip quickly. Someday, they would catch her. She was outside before she opened her videophone. "Do you need me right now, Slade?" she asked, glancing around. Alfred was at the gourmet grocery store, and Bruce was supposedly on the prowl, but Richard's house wasn't very safe.

"That attitude will not get you far, apprentice. Your task is to gain the full trust of the Titans. You already have failed to give me information about Wayne's defenses."

"I don't know about his security. He doesn't know half of it, I think- Oracle handles most of it, and I'm lucky to know she's Oracle. As for trust- I keep leaving on important events. They're getting suspicious."

"Your loyalties lie with me. If they knew what you are- you would rot in jail. You are there so I can get rid of the Titans."

"Why are the Titans important?" Tara asked, guessing he was in a rare mood that wasn't bad. Slade didn't have good moods.

"I will run the gangs in this city. To get rid of Trigon alone is not enough, as he has named a successor in his will. The Titans will cause trouble, and their fall will weaken all other opposition."

"When?" Tara hated waiting, and wanted the battle done and over before she had time to think about what the plans entailed.

"So many questions, apprentice. The point is simple. Do not attach yourself to the Titans."

"I won't." Tara wasn't lying to Slade. She already had attached herself to the Titans. They liked her, and she and Gar were circling something more.

"Stay tonight, and report to me at the usual hotel at four A.M. That will give you time to detour by your apartment. Begin looking into your trademark, Molotov. Soon, our plants will be put into effect."

"I will, Slade." She disconnected and allowed herself a smile. The Titans were her friends- but they would never understand what she and Slade had.

"He let you stay?" Gar asked as soon as she came down the stairs.

"I just have to work early tomorrow- I'll be done by the time all of you kids are out of school."

"Come on, you too- Kori won't open presents 'until every Titan is present,'" Vic urged. "Richard dragged himself from her company for an hour- and came back with a small mock-velvet box."

Tara felt a familiar pull that had nothing to do with the hand in hers. They were her friends- but Molotov could afford no friends, and she was Terra Molotov before Tara Markov. Terra Molotov, Tara Markov, apprentice- she had too many names, and no idea which was really hers.

"Tara, grab some cake- if you look at the artwork sideways, Starfire's elbow looks like- I'm not sure, actually, but it's good cake." Gar had already decided that he was in charge of coaxing Tara into indulging.

"I couldn't, I-"

"You are all elbows and knees. You need to eat cake if you want to last through a California winter- you need body fat," Gar teased. It was an old play-fight, and it was working. Tara fought, but slowly was developing a few curves that had once been sharp angles.

"Fine," she groused. "You just want me to weigh more than you."

It was an almost normal scene. Victor was talking to Bee over the communicator while the Titans East patrolled, Kori and Richard were having a frosting fight after giving up attempts to clean up the mess, Gar was pestering Tara into gaining a healthy weight, and Rachel was watching the familiar chaos. Christmas was coming quickly, and she had yet to figure out what to get for the group's changeling child.

Tara had finished her shopping early, at the local fitness store. Kori had taken Rachel's recommendation for Victor. Rachel had only begun to consider what to buy. She had time. Victor was staying with his mother and her fiancé for Christmas, the Anders family would be skiing, the Wayne family was having an apologetically family Christmas with Tim as the only exception, and Tara would already be at Gar's. Rachel would not ask to become a third wheel, and no one invited her after she told the almost-truth and said that she would be having a bonding day with Christiana.

She would spend Christmas with Arella. Her mother hadn't acted like Angela since the day she spoke of Lenore. Maybe, maybe- it was a hopeful word. Maybe Rachel could trust that Tara had left Slade's service. Trigon knew nothing of Tara, and his spy network rivaled Oracle's. He knew that Blood was involved in some conspiracy.

Rachel rose to save Richard. The silly clod wouldn't tell Kori her embrace was too tight, and would probably pass out after another minute. Someone had to watch these romances, and everyone else was too close to the problem. Kori noticed before Richard even started turning colors- the team was making progress. Rachel, exhausted by keeping five friendships solid, decided that this would be a good time to meditate. She wouldn't need the _Book of Azar _today- a little plain meditation in a deserted corner safely distant from the renewed frosting fight would be just fine.


	33. Eyes

_This story is rated T. If insinuations about a physical relationship are beyond your level of comfort, I can't do any more to help you without destroying a few plot points. There will be no graphic description of such encounters. Before any chapters with graphic violence that I would consider disturbing, I will post a warning. Flames about incorporated events from the comics (notably the relationship between Tara and Slade) will be disregarded, as the idea behind it (however disturbing) explains motive. _

_Everyone knew this was coming. Here's the due action sequence, in a long chapter. Like it or not, I'm not changing my perceptions of characters. All details about gifts are remembered and decided, and I haven't forgotten. Credit for the red light goes to Kay- I wouldn't have thought of the idea. For listening to various rants (especially about Tara), dr.evil99 gets credit. To all the random people I accosted in the halls- sorry._

**Chapter Thirty-three: Eyes**  
"Tara? Are you awake?"

She blinked away sleep. "Sorry, Gar. It's not the restaurant- it's great. I just put a lot of- energy into work."

"What do you do, anyway?" he asked. She never had specified, and she put odd inflections on her words.

"Odd jobs," she said evasively. "I work for a supplier for local grocery stores, so I report to different places. It's hard to describe. It's part physical labor, but planning what goes where is tricky, when dealing with fickle merchants." She created a fictional career, guessing that he wouldn't question her too much.

"It sounds interesting, at least," he said, puzzled by the vague details given about what she did every day.

"Let's not talk about my job," _or I'll think about who I work with. _"Let's spy on Kori- Richard's holding the door for her." Tara hadn't known their hole-in-the-wall restaurant was popular- the only thing it had with any real taste was their apple pie.

"It's about time they ended up together." Gar watched, ducking behind his menu when Kori glanced around. Richard barely looked away from Kori to find his way to the table.

"You all saw it coming?" Tara knew that Victor had reservations about her relationship with Gar, and maybe bringing up Kori and Richard could lead to the real idea.

"Everyone but them guessed a long time ago." Gar thought that Kori might have known, but maybe that was just a girl's prerogative.

Tara bit the bullet and made the mention. "Victor mentioned that everyone once thought you and Rachel had some romantic potential."

"Maybe we did. She was only my close friend when no one else was. She used to open up to me- now I'm lucky if she'll give me an angry glance." Gar had been trying, but Rachel rarely paid attention to conversations. Making an unappreciated effort wasn't the best way to spend his time.

"I'm sorry," Tara said.

"Don't be. Rachel's still a Titan. Whenever she wants to talk, I'm ready to listen. She just hasn't had much to say to me." Gar doubted that Rachel noticed they spent less time together- she always had her books or her homework.

Her loyalties conflicted again. They did so almost constantly- the Titans were her friends, but Slade was everything. "She isn't as close to any of the others," Tara said. "She and Victor talk once in a while, but he doesn't push her out of bad moods. Whenever he tries, she gets worse."

"We don't need to talk about everyone else, Tara," he said, mostly serious. That was what they usually ended up doing.

She grinned, choosing to make light of the situation. "It's more fun to gossip. Vic took me with him yesterday to help him pick out a present for Bee. Kori terrifies him when she's in the 'mall of shopping' before she hits the pretzel stand and looks for mustard, and he didn't try asking Rachel."

"Why would he be terrified of Kori?" Gar asked. He had never been to the mall with her, but doubted she could be that bad. She was- exuberant, that was all.

"Picture Kori in a brightly lit place with many people, shortly after eating two Cinnabons. Then add in a few rows of windows filled with dresses, jewelry, assorted gadgets- I don't know how Rachel managed alone on Kori's first trip to the mall." Tara shuddered- she would request back-up.

"I think it's probably a good thing I avoid malls. Karen called me while she was at one, but that's the closest I've been in a long time. She insisted that I call her Karen instead of Bee, called me Garfield instead of B, and then asked what Karen would get for Garfield's friend Victor."

"What did you say?" Tara asked.

"Socks."

"Socks?" Tara didn't understand what he was saying.

"I told her that she's not typical, and neither is he. We know that normal stuff would either be boring or not fitting. So, she asked me again. That's when I told her that I didn't have any ideas for gifts that he didn't already own and she hung up on me."

Tara laughed, relaxing. Gar always could make her laugh, no matter how bad her day had been. With Slade, she always had to be on her guard for sudden fights. Gar was more careful, and his spontaneity was never a threat. She was Gar's girlfriend, but neither of them ever thought of going past scattered kisses.

Rachel still stiffened whenever she saw the two of them, he saw that night in the basement the Titans were beginning to claim as their own. Bruce was slowly moving his business to a back room, away from the 'gallivanting teenagers.' Sparing Rachel a glance, Gar guessed that she was uncomfortable with displays of affection. Just as she always did, Rachel retreated for the other part of the room.

Tara knew that Rachel only ignored the other couples. Rachel could nonchalantly read her book beside Victor and Bee, or Kori and Richard. Tara had interrupted something between Gar and Rachel, but it was too late to fix that. Tara liked Gar, and Gar liked her. It should be simple- but Gar's glance strayed to Rachel, and Rachel stayed in her room rather than see Gar and Tara together.

Tara was in the eye of a hurricane. Slade would kill her if she failed him- but his disappointment in her would also wound, when he had found her and saved her and told her she was beautiful. The Titans had accepted a betrayal to Slade- barely. Richard had been forgiven only because his intent was not evil. Tara shuddered, unnoticed by Gar- he was looking away towards Rachel's room again. If the road to hell was paved with good intentions, where would her bad intentions lead?

**.Christmas.**  
The preparations for Christmas were made. Presents were bought and wrapped, traditional meals made, customary tunes sung. Planning around family events led to combining two parties with a gift from Bruce. He rented a private hall just out of town, with offered staff for the banquet center politely refused. Alfred would provide a suitable feast of food and drinks before leaving the teenagers, a set of borrowed disc jockey equipment would be ready, and the place was reserved for six Titans. Bee politely declined an invitation- the Titans East wanted to start their own traditions.

Victor and Bee had felt the original pull, but the relationship was strained. Victor wouldn't call it quits because of an occasional fight, but balancing two crime-fighting teams with all the usual inconveniences of life meant that they barely saw each other.

Tara and Gar were dating by word, but their dates weren't anything like what Victor or Kori or Richard specified. Tara called the relationship platonic- and Gar heard her, and couldn't argue semantics. After accepting the new adjective, they had a few more pre-Christmas dates- and then went back to discussing how they would be spending Christmas at Gar's home.

Richard and Kori were inseparable. Starfire and Robin were just as bad, and the Boy Wonder quickly gained a reputation for being rough with anyone caught eyeing his girl. Starfire was less ferocious, unless physical closeness was concerned. A few broken fingers were easily healed with time, after Barbara helpfully set them. A girl had to defend herself, after all.

Rachel watched the 'continuing emotional drama,' as she called it. She helped Victor in the garage once, but could tell that the car only needed an oil change to solve phantom problems. She told him as much and walked out of the garage before he could complete his slow lead-up into asking how Rachel really felt, seeing everyone else paired up. Kori and Richard had similar luck, when Victor asked for their help. Gar couldn't get Rachel's attention, and didn't even try asking her whatever Victor wanted to know.

On Christmas Day, Victor's parents had a shaky truce as unsteady as the gelatin mold his father had produced. The fiancé was politely quiet, and the dinner was a cautious armistice. All escaped relieved the affair was over, and the holiday was much more cheerful when the festivities were complete.

Kori skied. She graduated to a hill past the bunny slope, and made a spectacular wipeout in front of the ski instructor (who, as Kori would always claim, was not as attractive as Richard). Connie helped her sister to stand again before upbraiding the instructor. By the time she was through insulting him, he accepted her offer of hot cocoa. Kori decided to count the encounter in her favor- Connie may have exploited the situation, but Kori hadn't lost anything.

Richard, Bruce, and Alfred had a quiet dinner. Alfred insisted on serving everything from the salad to the goose to the pudding, but did stay between courses to talk about Richard's schoolwork, Bruce's work, and Alfred's troubles in finding a proper gourmet store. The conversation came close to touching on Ms. Grayson, but Richard didn't push Bruce any farther. There was the chance that Bruce would open up- and the chance that Richard could ruin the dinner. He decided on patience- his mother had been nothing but memories for over ten years, and another few weeks wouldn't hurt.

Rachel ate with her mother. Arella's Christmas turkey dinner was only slightly overcooked, but tough and stringy meat wasn't the focus of the holiday. Rachel tried prompting her mother throughout the meal with no success. Rachel hugged her mother before withdrawing to her room, not surprised that Arella had not returned the contact. Rachel instead glanced at her holiday gift. She had extra allowance and one present, a gun. Her father had given her the weapon and suggestions on where to buy herself ammunition or additional firearms. She glanced through a catalog of claims, feeling a disquieting emptiness as she spent Christmas evening flipping through illustrations of bullet potential. Bullets could fly straight, fly fast, lesson blood, increase pain, whistle, leave confusing traces- she wanted none of those. Instead, she called a listed specialist to ask for a custom order. She would meet him in person and leave no paperwork trails- it was always good to have a back-up plan, in case all else failed.

Tara and Gar chatted comfortably with Shelia and Harry. Presents were small- a pendant set with emeralds for Shelia, a few tools to replace the items Harry most missed in his garage, a bracelet for Tara from the family, a few movies for Gar. The chicken dinner was voted delicious, and Tara was reluctant to leave at three in the morning after watching three clichéd Christmas movies and making sarcastic comments the whole way through. _It's a Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street, _and _A Christmas Story _would never be the same again. Shelia saved her remarks for after Tara had left. Shelia knew that Rachel would have enjoyed such a pastime. Gar only said that she hadn't wanted to come. No one asked if he had heard this from Rachel.

Tara listened to her messages as soon as she was safely away from Gar's house. She punched the numbers set to Slade's speed dial as her bracelet jangled. "Slade? You said to call."

"Tara. When are the Titans gathering?"

She froze a crucial have second, and a slight stutter proved her mistake. "N-new year's eve, Slade."

"Where?"

Tara hardened herself to block troubled murmurs of her conscience. Victor was too steady to leave a failing relationship, Rachel was dangerous, Kori was too trusting, Richard too ready to make important decisions, Gar was too good of a friend. The Titans had taken her in, but Slade would always be first.

She explained how to get to the hall, a timeline of when all but the Titans would be gone, and how to get assailants inside and concealed.

"Tara, this plan requires help from Molotov. We need a rather large explosive cocktail. No evidence will be left but bone fragments. There are two rooms in that basement- I have the schematics. One room is kept locked for checking belongings, but the key will be obtained.

"Who is doing this?" Tara asked, hoping it wasn't the jerks from the HIVE. No one knew of the plans Slade was making, but the pink-haired witch had always made Tara nervous.

"One person will take down the Titans. I don't care how, so long as every one of the five is dead. The same person will detonate the explosion and spread rumors about what happened before disappearing from the public eye."

Tara knew, but still had to ask. "Who?" If her voice quavered, he for once ignored the lapse.

"You, my dear. Come to our basement- Rachel is asleep, and we have a few days for you to finish your work."

Tara smiled, relieved to hear the subtle softening in his voice. "Of course, Slade. I assume I won't need the apartment any longer, so I'll clear that out to get rid of potential evidence."

"Recipes?" Slade asked.

"No, just a few personal items. I don't use recipes. I go by instinct alone- that's why so many of my explosions went out of control, when I was in Chechnya. The civilian casualties were all accidental." She forced herself to regain composure. The stupid slobs deserved it, anyway- she was blowing up a vacant church. They didn't have to run in and try to save sacred items. "They added to the effectiveness, of course," Tara continued smoothly. Slade had taught her that she wasn't a monster. She was beautiful, a rare flower that could stand to see the sun's light and the winter's ice. "If I'm playing with fire, I won't hold a fire extinguisher in one hand and the match in the other. Just call me unpredictable- no matter the extra strength, the building will fall. The only question is how much of the parking lot I will destroy."

"That's the Molotov I met in the east. They are targets and nothing else- they will never understand the thrill of the deed."

"Molotov's in," Tara said, savoring her own professional voice.

Slade could hear the shift from hesitant teenager to square-shouldered accomplice. "We are in, my dear apprentice. You are never alone."

"And I never will be."

He hesitated, but she read sincerity in the gap. "Never." He didn't need to say whether he agreed with her statement or not- she thought she knew, and that was half of her problem. That was why she would be useful only for this small job- the girl never would open her eyes to the deceptions inherent in organized crime politics.

**.Betrayal.**  
"Rachel, you did not up the dress," Kori said, disappointed, as her friend clambered into Victor's car. Rachel was sitting to the back by a window, as always- the couples within the six Titans liked to sit together, and no one guessed she would ever grow tired of a more spacious arrangement.

"No, I did not dress up. It's just the Titans, and I doubt any of you will ever see me dressed up. I've been to one dance, and I went in my Raven uniform." The Halloween dance had not been at all entertaining. She never had admitted out loud that going to Gar's house had been- his parents hadn't assumed she was a Goth likely to listen to a set type of music or dress all in corsets and lace and safety pins.

"Raven, you have to dress up at least once," Victor chided. "You and Kori are still in as bridesmaids at my mom's wedding- Tara, too, of course. The maid of honor already has a dress, so the three of you work on the choice."

"Great," Rachel muttered. "Weddings."

"It's as good as Christmas, Rachel. You, Kori, and Tara all get to go shopping for similar dresses." Gar grinned hopefully, but she didn't even look towards the front seat to glare at him. She kept her glower aimed out of the window.

Tara was oddly nervous. "It's just us," Victor told her, misreading her tenseness. "You volunteered to decorate- how is the place?"

Tara hated that no one had guessed. She had gone ahead to decorate. While hanging crepe paper, she had taken impressions of locks, documented exits and how to fight the team, planned strategy, and had planted her device, all in the course of an afternoon 'at work.' "It's nice, except the basement. I told Alfred to not put food down there- the mice have taken over the storeroom, and the locked room sounded just as bad, through the walls. The locked place is a closet, for any guests with fur coats- the rich are allowed paranoia, I guess. There's not much in the storeroom, anyway- lots of empty shelves, a few support beams, enough dust to give all of Australia an asthma attack."

"Are we there yet?" Gar asked, after no one else was offering a comment.

"It's twenty minutes out of town. I guess big corporations like to be away from crowds for big events. The insurance premiums must be through the roof- but it does have a fire hydrant." Tara almost wanted to reach out her foot and slam on the brakes. She was between Victor and Gar- if she wanted, she could force the car to break down.

"Ambulances and such would be slow, then," Victor said mildly. "Richard better not throw his elbows around, if he tries dancing- if he pokes an eye out, that's the end of it." Victor expected a retort. When none followed, he adjusted the rear-view mirror for a moment.

"He and Kori are lost to the world. Again. I saved the Christmas presents they brought before anything happened." Rachel edged closer to the window, now balancing three packages on her lap. "We should keep them away from horizontal surfaces. My first experience with such matters doesn't need to involve a first-row seat in the stands."

Rachel was left the task of convincing Kori and Richard to move inside. She harried them inside, feeling very much like a surly sheepdog. At the sight of food, they mostly disentangled. Rachel gave up.

She had a small meal from the sumptuous banquet Alfred had left, and then found a neat arrangement of a hotplate with a steaming kettle, a teacup, a packet of loose tea leaves, and a saucer. She added two pinches of her favorite loose-leafed tea, and was safely lodged in a sheltered corner by the time Richard and Victor figured out how to work the sound system. After the initial blast, they settled on a reasonable volume.

She wasn't alone for long. Two couples danced, and Victor meandered over to her corner. "Some party," Victor said, leaning against a wall and watching as she carefully cooled her tea with her breath. Rachel was gentle when she had to be.

"It would be for you, perhaps, if Bee was here."

"Not really. She called me today. We broke up. I knew it was coming- she just had the guts to make the move."

Rachel didn't apologize for his loss. It wasn't her fault, and Victor would hear enough responses based solely on platitude. "You'll find someone else, then, if you knew the break up was coming. You won't have to spend time moping about."

"You're implying again, Rae- chel."

"Nice catch," she said dryly enough that she made the compliment a threat. "If I am implying, then it's up to you to figure out who you daydream about."

"Rachel, I'm going to ask you something. I just want a yes or no answer. No one else hears, but it will let an idea stop bugging me."

"I never guarantee an answer," Rachel said.

He remembered the many times she hadn't answered, even when the question was only what she and her mother were doing for Mother's day. "Do you like Gar?"

"He's my friend- I guess so. I like everyone else. As for the other meaning, he is dating Tara."

"That's a qualifier, Rachel, and not an answer at all. If you can't tell me, how's he supposed to know?"

"Maybe he isn't, and I'm just a living puzzle."

"All puzzles are solved eventually," Victor said. He wasn't backing down this time.

"No." Rachel watched Gar and Tara dancing. They had forgotten the music, and were having another impromptu make-out session. She turned away. "No one knows how the Egyptians raised obelisks, and people are running out of theories."

"There's still a competition every year with some very nice prize money."

A few minutes passed in silence, and Tara had given Gar a last kiss before fussing with the fog machine. "Don't, Victor. It's Christmas- or it's at least our Christmas party, since the day was taken. You can help Tara wrestle with the fog machine, Gar can offer suggestions and refuse to mess with machinery, Richard and Kori can dance, and I can drink my tea and listen to the music."

"I'll help Tara, I get it. Take your own advice, Rachel. This is an armistice. No fights, no ploys- loosen up for a few minutes. Have fun- merry Christmas, happy New Year, all that jazz. You can sit in the corner and drink tea any day of the year- try something different."

Rachel suspected a plot, even if Victor said nothing to Gar. After a few minutes of watching Tara and Victor try to force the fog machine to work, Gar approached. "Dance with me, Rachel."

"No." He hadn't asked her, and Rachel didn't take kindly to orders, especially from him.

"Friends only, nothing implied- Tara won't have a problem." That only made her scowl gain strength. "It's Christmas, Rachel- just this once?"

Against her uncertainties, she set down her tea and accepted his hand. The fog machine began working as her feet met the hardwood dance floor from the first time, leaving carpet behind. Fog poured from the machine, and it was working a little too well. The opaque gases spewed into the room quickly lessened visibility to nothing, and the dimming in the lighting didn't help vision. "Gar," she said, almost forgetting her monotone in unexplainable nervousness.

"Rachel, don't let go. I'm sure everything will be fine." He didn't notice when her grip on his hand tightened- he was doing the same thing as they moved slowly across the dance floor, side-by-side. The music had stopped.

Victor was standing right next to Tara when the altered fog machine started to throw off undesired gases. He couldn't see Tara slip on a pair of night-vision goggles, even though she was two feet to his left. He felt a series of swift kicks, and fell down the short flight of steps to the basement. He remembered the landing, and nothing else.

Richard heard, and knew one person big enough to fall with the sharp clang of metal on tile. "Victor! Tara, what happened?" There was no answer. He kept Kori's hand from their dance, inching forward. He dodged the first two kicks by chance and a bit of luck, but a two-punch kick combo knocked him over and away from Kori.

Kori sprang forward with a yell in a foreign language. She was strong- but Tara had a wrench lost in the fog. Richard could barely breathe from his closeness to the fog machine, and was almost thankful when a sharp kick knocked him unconscious. He no longer had to imagine why Kori had made a tiny sound, or try to breathe past dark exhaust that smelled faintly of- Richard was unconscious before he could remember.

Gar let go of Rachel's hand instinctively when he felt a kick land on his elbow. "Rachel!" He couldn't see his own hands, no matter how much he flailed them about, and couldn't make out any light at all. Even the bright lighting from school dances that flashed varying fluorescent colors was lost in the darkness. "Kori and Victor are down- probably Tara and Richard, too." He doubled over when a kick landed. "Get help, Rachel."

"I'm not leaving you, any of you," she snapped. "I'll fight as best as I can. I've fought in the dark before." Rachel heard someone approach and punched with her eyes closed. In a room this dark, closing her eyes let her imagine she was in control.

A grunt escaped Tara at the harsh contact.

"Tara! Link hands with us," Gar said quickly. "We can find the others."

"I've already found them." Tara spun and aimed a booted heel at his temple. At her range, she couldn't miss.

Rachel threw several plates that came to hand where the carpet began in the general direction of the fog machine. She had heard the sound of what must have been dragged bodies plummeting down the stairs. The mechanisms wheezed into inaction, giving off only clear gas, and the fog slowly descended down the staircase. The only illumination was a disc jockey's lighting set-up, throwing the scene into shades of silver-white.

"Tara."

"Rachel."

"Traitor."

"Bitch."

"You were with Slade all along. You betrayed us." Rachel kept circling, forcing Tara to move. Tara's sensible shoes were not silent on the wooden floor, and in the silence Rachel could hear Tara moving. Rachel delayed, waiting for the fog to lessen so the playing field would be even.

"What makes you madder, Rae? That I betrayed your precious Titans- or that they liked me more than they could ever like you? Gar and Rae, what a couple- I ripped you apart with one smile. It's probably your personality- he always said you were a creepy cold-hearted witch," Tara lied with a mocking smile.

_Control. _Rachel was a flurry of motions. She landed two in three blows, but it wasn't enough. Tara caught only glances, and had studied with Slade.

"They would abandon you if they ever knew, Rachel- just like you abandon your mother. If you were the daughter she truly wanted, then your precious Angela wouldn't hide in her madness." Tara's triumphant smile at her exploitation of a key weakness should have been more sincere, but the expression failed when she saw Rachel.

The room glowed yellow from the shifting lighting, after passing through a green that made Tara a hazy silhouette in the lessening fog. Rachel was fighting back tears- Tara hadn't known Trigon's daughter could cry. That was the trick- this was the spawn of Trigon. If Tara remembered that, she could abandon regrets. "You're the superhero, Rachel- such a good job you've done of saving her from Trigon."

"Be quiet," Rachel whispered as the yellow light shifted to orange in a gradual rainbow of color. She could take ridicule because she was Rachel Roth, demon-child. She could ignore gibes against Trigon's daughter. No one was going to bring Arella Roth into a fight.

"Why? Because it's always quiet before a beating?" Tara mocked, trying to get rid of the flash of defiance. If she fought Rachel without an advantage, Tara would lose.

"Be quiet," Rachel said, voice dangerously foreboding.

"The Titans know this. Even without knowing of Trigon, they are wary of you. They give you your space, just in case you snap and let out all the anger you've inherited. It's a vicious cycle, Rae, and you're the next link in the chain."

"Shut up," Rachel yelled as the light became a red touching on orange, a fiery shade.

"Rachel, I know what hurts," Tara finished, falsely contrite and sick to her stomach. "You trusted me. Sorry, but Slade and I need you and your friends out of our way."

"Slade will betray you, just as he has betrayed each apprentice. You could have been one of us." Rachel's voice would not quiet again, and she could not draw away from her crescendo of anger.

"I could have been- but I'm destined for a place without you. Let's see how Trigon's daughter fights- this is how you would hurt all you care about, right?" Tara fought in a complex pattern, surprised at Rachel's lack of resistance. "Too scared to fight me, Rae?"

The bright red of unbound anger reflected through trails of fog, and for a second it seemed that two glowing eyes opened on her forehead. Rachel fought, but the rage that gave her blows adrenaline-filled strength slowed her reaction time, and Tara found the holes in her guard with a quick series of punches aimed for temples.

Rachel fell, but wasn't completely out. The light had shifted from red to a soft brown, and both combatants knew the fight was over. Rachel had fallen onto her better arm for punching, and didn't have the strength to rise while breathing in fumes from the smoke machine. The thick fog that had filled the room within seconds contained traces of weakening substances only Tara had taken an antidote for. There were no more words, but Tara nearly cried at the sight of a hopeless Rachel looking through the last traces of smoke into the violet light that gave gray skin a tone that sunlight never allowed.

Tara let the fog machine finish the job. The traces of noxious substances leaking past the break quickly reached Rachel, and her eyes closed before the light could work its way to blue. By the time the steadily changing light had turned green again, Tara had finished moved five unconscious Titans into the conveniently empty locked room. She hadn't killed them, but the explosion would. She walked to the next room to finish the last touches on a signature bomb, a foundation cocktail guaranteed to bring down the house. Her hands shook only once. She had a job to do, and tears would keep.

**.Titans Rising.**  
"Rachel."

She grumbled, but forced the last of unpleasant grogginess from her mind when the voice persisted for a few minutes that felt like an hour. Someone was just about on top of her, and she could guess who it was. "Get off, Gar."

"Sorry, Rachel, but we're a little tight on space." He gave her room until she dragged herself to a seated position.

"Is everyone else up?" she asked quietly, trying to guess where they were. She smelled old furs and remembered the sound of going downstairs. Two rooms- they were in a closet.

"Yes," said Kori. She sounded disoriented, but that was expected. "I am bleeding slightly, but I am awake."

"Who has a cell phone?" Rachel asked, furious with herself for dropping hers next to her tea.

"I already called," Victor said. "Oracle's sending Bruce- the paramedics are lagging. He'll be here in nine minutes, paramedics in a little less than fifteen."

"I smell orange juice," Rachel said, shaking off dizziness. Otherwise, such a comment would have remained unsaid.

"I smell gasoline." Richard wrinkled his nose at the pungent odor.

Rachel paled. "Does anyone know what you get when you mix gasoline and orange juice concentrate? Napalm. Tara has betrayed us- and she's known for combination bombs." That had never been a part of the secrets deal. "Tara is Molotov, in international circles, but I thought she had sworn off explosions after she accidentally killed four people in one of her bombings."

"We need to get out of here," Richard said with the quiet sureness that made him a good leader. He was restating the facts to keep everyone together. "We might not have nine minutes, or even the seven we'll get if Bruce drives quickly. We've all been out for an hour, at least- no one's sure about the time before."

"The door is locked," Kori said. She was nearest to the door, and had already tried.

"Kori, can I borrow a bobby pin?" Gar asked. Seeing that she was about to ask, he grabbed one from her carefully arranged hair, using the faint light from Victor's open communicator. He could apologize later, and he didn't want to have to delay the impulse. He unbent the pin and bit the blunt plastic edge from the thin metal tip. He jammed the modified bobby pin into the keyhole and twisted a few times, acting on pure instinct and too many cheesy detective movies.

The door opened. Rachel clapped Gar on the shoulder, a careful touch meant to reassure them both. "I didn't know you could do that."

Gar smiled. "Neither did I." He stepped into the hallway after standing, leading the way in the ten foot journey to the next doorway. This room had no door. Tara was surrounded by gasoline and empty cans, working around a boxed construction that didn't need labels to explain that it contained nitroglycerin.

"Tara."

She didn't look away from her work. "Don't come any closer. This will destroy the entire building, and I am willing to die to complete my task."

"As it should be, my apprentice." Slade emerged from the unlit side of the dim room, stepping between two metal support beams. "This is your last task for me, and it would befit you to have a successful completion record behind you when you seek other employment."

"Y-you promised we would work together," Tara said, looking up from her work.

"We have- we worked well together, but that will be past."

"Liar." Tara rose, bottle in hand. She lit a medium fuse and threw the explosive. She missed Slade, instead unsettling the room's supports.

"You can't even hurt someone properly. Then again, you never were a good apprentice. Your looks help you, but not as much as your willingness to hear only what you want to." Slade should have guessed that Tara would cling to anyone who told her she wasn't a monster- it was a pity that she was asking him for the definition.

"I am not to be trifled with, Slade."

She imagined he smiled. "And that is why you have passed my final test," he said, twisting the situation to suit himself. If the foolish mule of a girl again needed to see the carrot to finish the job, he'd play along for a few minutes. The silly girl was terrified of being alone. "Let us fight your ex-partners, just like we've practiced." Tara agreed by standing beside him, relief obvious.

"Tara, don't do this," Gar said, stepping forward before anyone could stop him. He could feel someone staring at him, and a quick glance proved that it was Rachel. Tara was looking away. "What did he promise?"

"Power." Tara summed up her life in one word. She craved power, wanted it, needed it- it was the one way she could make sure that no one ever would mess with her life. People would hate and fear her, but she would rise above them all. They wouldn't laugh as they sent a girl away to rot- they would never remember the girl Slade had saved. They would know Molotov, who needed no rescuing.

"Is it worth it?" he asked, looking her directly in the eyes. He was so close that she couldn't look away without proving weakness.

She knocked his feet out from under him, giving him a shove in the wrong direction for him. Slade took over, kicking a stumbling Titan in a most unfortunate direction. The unsteady support beam fell, and only the wide supports at ceiling and floor saved his ankle from being crushed. As it was, he was pinned fifteen feet from a very dangerous explosive.

"Finish him, Tara- I will fight the others." Slade had never fought a Titan directly, save brief combats with Rachel. He held off four Titans without any trouble. The four were disoriented from the gas, wounded from the ambush, and blind with emotion.

"He'll betray you, Tara." Gar felt the odd calmness Kori had once mentioned blanket him. He's faced certain death before- it really would be a shame, when a friend could kill him after such serious liver cancer could not. _With friends like Tara, who needs Slade? _He felt nothing, and it was a relief.

He said nothing else, but she knew what he could say. She remembered every good time they had shared, the trust- the casual friendly dates with no pressure to go too far. If this was friendship, a base for love- she learned something, thinking through matters in that basement room. Slade didn't love her. "I am his pawn."

"In chess, when a pawn crosses the board- the weakest piece can become a queen."

Tara believed Gar. He never had lied to her, even when it hurt. She picked up the beam, and pure fury gave her the strength to wield it in a swinging arc and knock Slade into a corner. "Slade can stay here when the building goes," she said to the Titans. She would leave the building, apologize, and then head- somewhere. Tara felt her head clear with the new decision-making skills, and didn't care at all that Slade was pinned under a beam in the corner. He had not been lucky- the beam pinned him across the chest, keeping one arm and both legs pinned.

"You built that explosive on top of a natural gas line, apprentice," Slade said, apparently unconcerned with his proximity to the bomb. "When it explodes, the fire will travel down the line. The only alternative would be to move it away."

Tara knew her way around a bomb. She made them herself in her own arrangements, and the secrets of her trade would go with her. "Go, all of you. A spark from a clash of metal and stone floor landed on a slow fuse, and the bomb's timed." Tara could visualize her bomb. "I didn't know what the lines on the blueprint stood for- I have time to move this bomb, but not to get out of here."

"Tara-"

She wouldn't let Gar finish. "Rachel, Victor- someone support him. Richard, help Kori. Slade isn't going anywhere, and neither am I- if I don't move this, there's only six inches of concrete to protect the town. If I get this at a vector for the force, there's a chance that the fire will stay here." Her eyes were quickly icing, and she embraced her old persona of Molotov- dangerous, decisive, and deadly. Maybe they'd remember her after all, all of her- that scared little girl was her past, and this choice was her future.

Rachel helped Gar stand, and asked for him after she saw the words try to form. "Is there another way?" She pitied Tara- but would never forget how Tara had manipulated them all.

"No, and this is the first decision no one else has influenced that I can be proud of making. Friends forever, but not love. I'm going out in a blaze of glory- that's better than rotting in prison for lives I ended. If I can take Slade out with me, consider that a last favor."

"Good hunting," Kori said, even as her tears began to fall. There was no stopping a warrior from their quest to find themselves, no matter the danger.

Richard felt a catch in his throat, but if his voice was rough, he blamed it on a spreading bruise. "Go on, Titan."

"I won't tell, Tara- some details deserve to be buried," Rachel said with a contemptuous look directed at Slade.

"Good-bye," Gar said.

Tara nodded acknowledgement, but had no last words that would be good enough for such a group. "I'm humming the Jeopardy theme song, and then I'm moving this. That could cause the blow up if the spark hits wrong."

Rachel ended up supporting Gar for the entire length up the staircase. Victor leaned on the railing- he was bigger than anyone else there. Every one of them needed a hospital visit. Richard saw their chariot's lights, and they all lurched towards the Batmobile.

They piled in. Richard took the front seat after Rachel, Gar, Victor, and Kori were settled in the backseat a combination of levers had produced. "We can't leave yet," Gar argued once they were up the road. "We have to- we have to tell the paramedics to look for her. They might find her."

They stayed as Bruce conferred with Rachel. He relayed the quiet conversation of details to the paramedics, promising a report later as he transported wounded civilians. They left before the explosion, so all they saw was a flash of fire in the rear-view mirror minutes before the Batmobile roared into the hospital parking lot, coming dangerously close to the glass admittance doors. Gurneys, doctors, and nurses rushed out to meet them, and the night was a chaos of check-ups and status reports and tests and splints.

**.Aftershock.  
**Gar's worst injuries were a strained wrist and a badly bruised ankle. Rachel had a hairline fracture in her arm and a bad reaction from breathing in so much of the fog. Victor had a concussion and lacerations. Kori and Richard each had a concussion and a sprained right wrist- both led off with the right. Kori also had staples for the head wound that had contributed the most to the blood that darkened her hair- and Bruce's car, but he said to not worry about that.

No one told them until morning about the latest patient. Officially, she was called Jane Doe- but Tara Markov was unmistakable. The small trick was one of a few precautionary measures. The hospital's patient unidentified in records was unconscious, and had potential enemies.

Tara had been found under a shelter of beams. There was no sign of another body, but napalm had scorched the rest of the room. It was a miracle- or pure chance- that she had survived at all. By the next after noon, when five teenagers targeted by a misguided assailant in a spontaneous assault (the official explanation) were released, Miss Doe was diagnosed with a persistent vegetative state.

The doctors explained details in jargon, not guessing that one listener almost understood what they were going on about. The deep sleeper had periods of REM activity that discouraged disconnection of life support, but the dreams were short. Rachel put the matter simply. Tara would not wake from the occasional brief dreams- she would only sleep more deeply.

A subdued group of teenagers sent a bouquet through the anonymity of Oracle's odd connections. The media had found someone willing to sell her story for petty cash, so the Titans kept the message on the card simple. _Terra. A Teen Titan, A True Friend. _

No one was up to a press conference, but a few letters convinced one newspaper editor to take a controversial stance. Michael Cooper drew even the richest occupants of Forston into buying that newspaper, and had to run the cover four days in a row. He wrote a daring eulogy that praised and criticized the girl who was a Titan, putting some blame on the lack of options for a girl in that position. Gar read it, down to the quiet note that facts were used with permission of Raven, the Teen Titan who had convinced the editor to write the article.

Rachel stayed with Gar the day after the article came out. The only contact she gave was a gentle hand on his arm, but she was a presence in the cold hospital room that didn't need machines to breathe. She left hours later, refusing thanks. She had her best friend back, but he still cared more about Tara. She had invited him to go out somewhere, anywhere- and he had refused. She was hurt, at first, but thought about the implications. _If he could like her after she was Slade's willing apprentice, then maybe- _It was better to leave such thoughts behind, when she was in such a state.

Trigon hadn't mentioned Slade. That meant nothing. Rachel would have to be careful. Slade was threatening when she could see him- and worse when assumed dead. The fear was worse when she couldn't see the cobra in the room- he could be anywhere. Rachel walked home from the hospital alone, watching her shadow travel along the sidewalk. Tara had redeemed herself, and Rachel still lost to a memory. By the time Gar opened his eyes and figured out why she had reacted to his choices in relationships, Rachel would be probably be eighteen and far away from Forston. She didn't lose her mood as she found a package for her with no return address, and opened it in her room. She knew what was inside, and took out a custom magazine with her requested ammunition. She weighed the seven cartridges in her hand before putting the ammunition into a drawer with a wry almost-smile. Who would have thought that seven bullets would be life insurance?


	34. Discourse

_Consider this your break from drama, because next chapter there will be action. _

**Chapter Thirty-Four: Discourse  
**Victor knew he should feel more depressed, or hurt, or angry, or- something. She had broken up with him on the thirty-first. By the third of January, she was steady with some new student. He didn't mind, and he didn't blame her. They had gotten along, but had never felt anything more than a casual Saturday night attraction. He had just talked with her the day before, and they were good friends. Bee was friendlier now that she wasn't dating him- it was too clean of a break, almost. He had met Garth and Karen (Aqualad and Bee, if he saw them on patrol) around Forston. He had congratulated the TE (the in-school acronym, just in case anyone was listening) on a fight Eve had mentioned. If the chief of police read through an entire report, Barbara felt it was worth the time.

He was in the park, leaning the giant oak that no one else had ever claimed. It still was the best place he could find for thinking, no matter how cold the weather was. He watched his breath stream away in a wind. It was a clear night, as California went, but the stars were obscured by a haze of smog. He could make out only a few stars, including something that might have been Orion's belt.

He hadn't seen anyone else in the park since the occasional snow shower gave the area an almost permanent frost. There wouldn't be anyone to hear if he remembered something his grandma had always said, looking at a California sky. "Stars light, stars bright, all stars I will not see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight." He heard rustling to his right, directly downwind.

"Who taught you that, Stone?"

Of all the times for them to meet again, it would be after something like that. Jinx was her own force of nature. "My grandmother, frustrated with stargazing around this area. She was born in the upper peninsula of Michigan, where car exhaust is exceeded by smoke from pasties. She missed Cassiopeia whenever she came out here to visit."

"The crooked W, right? That's a good constellation to find to get bearings." Jinx had read more than her share of Greek myths, where the endings of tales were rarely happy and people were quick to find the bad girl. Jinx put more blame on the gods and goddesses than she did on the almost-good girls hated by the general population. "What did you wish for?" she asked, after both were content with a few minutes of quiet.

"I can't tell you that, Jinx. If I did, it wouldn't come true." Besides that old superstition, he would recite six nursery rhymes before telling Jinx the wish was about her. He shifted to his left, leaving space. She took it, sitting directly next to him.

"It's cold," she said offensively. Jinx didn't believe in defense. "Do you mind? I'm at a biological disadvantage, here. Besides, it's not like you need the body heat you're radiating."

"What's your biological disadvantage?" Victor expected a mention of her lack of insulation.

"I'm from India, originally. I burn like crazy in that sort of sun, but that's my favorite temperature range. That's the worst of California- it's all wind and no real heat."

He didn't know exactly why she was talking about her past so casually, but he wasn't about to stop her. "It wouldn't be so bad, if you had a proper coat. You should get something with a few layers."

Jinx shrugged. "I can't exactly go walking into a store, with my reputation. I'll probably just scare one off some rich broad with sense not related to fashion."

"I won't convince you otherwise, but I could get a coat somewhere that would actually. I'm some rich kid who's convinced he owes you an apology- no strings attached."

"There's no need," Jinx said airily, ignoring an offense to her pride. "I've been here before, when you were at the tree," she said, changing the topic. "I haven't heard anyone wish for a long time."

"Why don't you try?" he challenged.

"Wishing has never worked out for me, Stone."

"That doesn't mean it won't work this time."

"Optimist," she grumbled.

That made him smile. "You sound like Raven. She has the same idea about positive thinking. Trying wouldn't hurt, Jinx."

"It won't change anything, Stone."

"No, it won't."

She was quiet for a minute, leaning against his side. He didn't push when she was ready to fight back, and he was always courteous. "I heard your team messed with Slade's girl."

"Tara?" Victor hadn't heard the details. Rachel knew, but no one had asked her after seeing the look on her face. She had muttered something about a promise before walking away.

"Tara Markov. In my circles, she's known only as Molotov. Everyone in Forston heard her last hello. She wasn't all bad, I guess." Jinx was a criminal, but she had never killed anyone, by accident or otherwise.

"You know about her? Raven does, but she only talks about a promise before clamming up."

"I know about her. She's an explosives expert, but her science isn't exact. Slade snapped Tara up when she was coming off of a series of jobs that killed innocents she hadn't wanted to hurt. She was his apprentice, so she. . ." Jinx didn't know what else to say. Everyone else in her circle of acquaintances knew what it meant when Slade chose a pretty female apprentice. "Tara and Slade were involved," she said diplomatically.

"She passed information to him the entire time. I guessed that much."

"No, Stone- don't be a blockhead. She and Slade were sexually involved- she thought he loved her. Your Raven knew that Slade and Tara were involved." Jinx guessed that Raven was still rebelling, by fighting with the Titans. Trigon's daughter had never offered her any troubles- Jinx could play the fool on that point.

"She knew they were- involved to that extent?"

"Yes." Jinx was sure. Tia never lied. Tia's temper was as short as she was, but anyone accusing Tia of dishonesty usually lost a battle of sabers before realizing that she was in earnest.

"I don't want to know what Tara had on Raven, unless Raven herself tells me. She told us to not trust Tara, but that was all. Raven's going to have a talk with Beast Boy tomorrow, so I wouldn't recommend going over by the hospital." Victor remembered another topic. "Mia's doing fine."

"We keep in touch," Jinx said curtly, breaking away from that topic. "What about the rumor mill in Forston? This isn't HIVE business at all, but I heard Karen and Garth are an item."

"And?"

"It's interesting."

Victor could only guess her motive. "Jinx, what do you want? There's nothing odd about the two of them hooking up." He didn't know what he'd do if she knew everyone.

"Stone, you're overreacting."

He stood as quickly as a false limb would allow. "Overreacting? Let's be honest, Jinx. You're a _criminal._"

"That doesn't mean my every reason for action is to stick it to the good guy." She leapt to her feet, eyes blazing in the dim orange streetlamps.

"Call it my own pessimism, Jinx, but you know my name and the names of two close friends. You have some odd source about Raven. What am I supposed to think? I like you, but this will not work. I don't know you at all."

"You could try trusting my motives, just this once. I only care about one quality of your precious Karen Beecher, but you'd guess the wrong one."

"You've been snooping about her. What should I guess? You want to figure out how to defeat the East in battle?" Victor rarely raised his voice, but she was trying to make him angry.

"No. Someone I know from Forston told me the girl ditched you for a pretty boy. That's why I talked to you- you're single, and I'm not stepping on a girlfriend's toes. I thought we had something." Her voice dwindled before she remembered her fury. "I should have known all heroes were the same."

"Why would you care?"

"Why? Maybe I kept thinking about some stupid guy who didn't laugh at my roof. Maybe I wanted to do something different with my life. This isn't supposed to happen, Stone. I'm not supposed to fall for the good guy like some D-grade movie villainess."

"Maybe it's karma," he said, remembering old conversations.

"Maybe, but there is no guarantee that this will work." She was through yelling. Instead, she lapsed into thoughtfulness.

"Who needs a guarantee? We'll never know unless we try."

Jinx wanted to make everything clear before they started. "We're not going to be some tragic Romeo and Juliet couple. Look how happy they ended up. If I ever need to leave, I'll disappear. If you ever decide that you can't be with a criminal, then I'm gone. If you ask me to betray the HIVE, you'll wish I was gone."

"I wouldn't expect anything else- and if you leave, I just hope that you'll leave a goodbye. It's a little cold to stand around outside all night," he said, switching the subject. "What's something you've never done before?"

Jinx thought for a moment. "Let's go bowling- it's normal, not too difficult, and shouldn't send some sort of bizarre message." She pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt.

"Jinx, you don't need to hide."

"It's better this way."

"My friends might not like the idea, but that's not their decision. Your friends can think that you're just messing with some rich boy's head- I don't care what they think about me."

"We'll see, Stone." The hood stayed up, for now. "You have your car, right? Giz is envious of your hunk of metal, and I want to see it in action. The HIVE won't hear about us, but that's to keep out reprisals from the few freaks that follow me around."

"It's karma, right? We'll see if this works out."

"Karma," Jinx agreed, smiling when he opened the passenger door for her. Nice guys- there was no living without them.

Hours later, the fairy tale of an evening had to end. "Just drop me off here, Stone." Jinx wouldn't let him go past the park. "I'll walk back- really, I don't know how you managed the coat business." She was wearing a new black coat, and was already smiling at the stories she would spin for the HIVE crowd. Except for a small number of friends, the HIVE thought she was some sort of eighth world wonder- and that would suit her just fine, for the night.

Victor kept a quick phone call to Kori to himself. "I have contacts," he said with a straight face. He got out of the car to say goodbye. It was only polite, and Elinore Stone raised only gentlemen.

"You keep telling yourself that, Stone. I think we could try this again sometime." The bowling alley employees had complimented her hair once she let down the hood. "Next time, my surprise."

"As long as I know when, you can say where," he promised.

"Good night, Victor."

She had never used his first name before. "Good night, Jinx."

"Even if this was a trick, I had a great time," she said before slipping into an alley. The rest of her reply echoed back to him- she wanted the last word. "If it was a trick, you'll regret it the next time I see you."

He smiled. Jinx would never change, but she was fine the way she was.

**.Friends Like These. **  
"Gar, come on."

"Visiting hours aren't over," he reminded her.

"For you, they are. You're going out to dinner, my treat." Rachel had brought a car to the hospital for the occasion- the Taurus, a nice bland car that wouldn't draw stares. Gar needed someone to interfere, and she could try his brand of bossing comfort.

"Rachel-"

He had yet to look at her. "She won't wake up," Rachel snapped. "If she does, by some chance, wake up, it will be after she can sustain more than four minutes of higher brain activity. She might not remember you. She might attack you. She might last a moment and then go into convulsions and die. There are no guarantees in life- and you can leave this room and have a life again."

"You don't understand, and you're one to talk about having a life."

"I do understand," Rachel said, trying to ignore the other half of his statement. He didn't mean to lash out, she hoped. "Tara and I were friends, and I understand things about her that you never will hear from me." Maybe she hadn't ignored his barb as well as she had hoped.

"You don't get close to people, Rachel."

It was too much. She forced back a rush of itching heat in her eyes. "Yes, I do. I might not show it, but I hurt when we left. Maybe you don't know what she said to me. I fought her, Gar, and she found my weakest vulnerability and ripped that open to make sure she could win."

"Like you did to me back in November?" He wasn't trying to be petty, but he couldn't understand Rachel. She had ignored him through all of December, and now suddenly wanted to be seen in public with him.

"Yes. Just like that. I'm just as bad as Tara- except you're sitting at her bedside. We're similar, aren't we? I'm not working for Slade- I'm probably chief underling of Trigon himself." Her voice never rose or changed tone.

"Rachel-" He put his full attention to the conversation, but it was too late.

"Forget it. I only wanted to be with a friend to help both of us through a rough time. If I turn out to be allied with Trigon, don't be surprised," she said bitterly. He never would guess, no matter how many hints she dropped. She didn't want anyone to know, but she couldn't keep that secret forever.

"Don't go," he said.

She already was buttoning her coat. "There's one difference between Tara and me, Gar. I'm sorry for what I said, and most of what I said was a lie. You've managed to stay upbeat through everything. I make everyone as miserable as I am. And for everything else- I already tried an apology, and it didn't work. Go ahead- stay here, believe in miracles. I'm going home."

She left, and he lost precious time lacing a boot and pulling on his jacket. He sprinted after her, running down three flights of stairs to try beating her elevator. He saw a dark blue coat and purple hair. "Rachel!"

She only walked faster. "Rachel, you could have said this earlier," he said.

"You were busy." The curt words were forced. She paused beside her car, putting the key into the lock.

"Never too busy for you."

That was it. He was not getting away with a statement like that. With the single mind of outraged fury, she picked him up by the shoulders and shoved him against the over-priced, over-gassed, over-chromed car in the next space. "No, Gar, you were too busy for me. For every three hours you spent with Tara, I was expected to be ready and waiting for a single glance. If I wasn't, you ignored me for a while and were surprised I didn't make the effort of sarcasm. You can't be the closest friend of two girls, Gar."

"I never claimed to be your closest friend," he protested, still in shock at Rachel's outburst. She never lost control- he had thought.

She dropped him. The fall to the ground was a few inches. The shriek of the fancy car's alarm was ignored. She hadn't left bruises or dents- there was no reason for a fuss. "I would say I understand, but you don't think I do."

"Rachel- I've wanted to be your friend for months, but you've consistently shot down that idea and word. I'm sorry if I paid less attention to you, but Tara was- she was something else. She was almost like you, Rachel. She had your secrecy, your way of pretending to not care- I think you went past all her badness, and she couldn't figure out how to do the same. She was jealous of you, Rachel- and I think she was right to be."

Rachel didn't know what to say to that. Instead, she let him finish without interruption.

"Friends?" he asked.

"We have been, Gar. Get in the car before security comes to check out the scene, will you? I know just the restaurant."

"What would that be?" he asked from the passenger seat. He watched her pull out. Rachel seemed to be looking anywhere but surrounding cars, but she adjusted before scraping the nearby cars.

"Dave's."

"The pancake place?" he asked.

"That's the one. I lied, before- for me, pancakes were something my mother made when people needed cheering up." That was all she would say.

He didn't push her. He didn't feel that he could get away with that just yet. "Whenever you're ready, I'll listen."

"I know, Gar." She was relieved when his communicator interrupted the exchange. It was dangerously close to one of the 'moments' Kori spoke of so often.

"Gar in," he said.

"Garfield, the nurses told us of a loud argument which ended with you running from the area. Are you fully right?" Kori asked.

"Everything's fine. I'll give details later, if people want to hear, but we just got to the restaurant."

"Restaurant?" Victor asked.

Everyone was on, so Rachel opened her communicator. "Dave's. Gar is with me, I'm not the poisoning type, and we'll see you later." That quieted them quickly, and they said a few quick good-byes. She rolled her eyes when Gar opened her car door for her. Sarcasm was safer than a smile. Too much change in one day wouldn't help anyone.

**.Technical Difficulties.**  
"Bowling is an interesting choice."

Victor had guessed that it was safe to tell Rachel about his date without wariness about repercussions, but she was a little too prepared. "You could explain why you have no problems at all with a teammate dating a criminal."

"You're a big guy, and I know you're crazy about each other. Even if I disapproved, it's not my concern," she said mildly.

"How well do you know Jinx?"

She shrugged. "I've met her a few times, out of uniform."

He heard her shift in tone. Gar might be able to get more out of her, but Victor wouldn't risk cutting off the conversation. "She told me about Tara and Slade. That fills in the gaps."

"What did she say about me?" Rachel doubted that Jinx would give anything too incriminating away, but she always checked.

"Not much. I told her I only wanted to hear your secrets from you, not that she would have told me. You don't have many friends, Rachel, but you sure choose them."

Rachel didn't bother acknowledging the remark with a nod. For a telephone conversation, it didn't make sense- she never used the video feature, a small paranoia about someone seeing her room at home. "I'm not involved with Slade any more than you are."

"I didn't think so, Rachel."

"You never ask about what you want to know," she said. Victor could guess that she wasn't in with Trigon, but confirmation was always nice.

"That's because you wouldn't answer. I wouldn't have asked you that anyway, Rachel."

There was no arguing with the truth. "Try me. Ask me something you want to know."

"What did you and Gar talk about last night?"

"Hospitals, whether soy milk ruined potatoes, why it's nothing that he did that caused Tara to betray us, and the crazy candy-striper at the hospital convinced that he's Robin from the Teen Titans."

"You're just proving me wrong now, Rachel," he said with a smile.

"No. I'm proving that I don't always follow my own rules. I ate pancakes yesterday, and convinced Gar to spend time with me." She glanced past the communicator. "I need to get back to biology homework- patrol is in an hour. I'll see you then."

He knew that she had hung up without checking. She often hung up quickly. He was used to that. He called someone else. "Gar?"

"Just a minute, Victor- I'm talking to Kori."

"I will leave, friend Gar. Thank you so much ever for enlightening me." Kori waved through the camera before hanging up with a smile.

"Enlightening?" Victor asked. "What were you guys talking about?"

"Kori went to a movie with Richard last night."

"And?" Victor prompted.

"He reached his arm around her shoulders, and she wanted to find out what that meant. After I told her a little about that, she was asking me about what Rachel and I did."

"Rachel said you guys talked a lot. I didn't ask one question, though- why were the nurses nervous? Someone mentioned something about an alarm, too."

"We had a fight," Gar said, deciding to get straight through the point. "It cleared up most of our problems."

"Jinx told me about how far Tara was into Molotov. It's not your fault." Victor figured out what he had said a second too late.

"Jinx?"

"Yes, Jinx, the criminal, and if-"

"I don't have a problem with that, Victor. I'm just surprised, that's all." He couldn't forget something Rachel had said. "Yesterday, Rachel made a few odd comments about how she just might be someone to Trigon- it was weird."

"What brought that up?" Victor asked. Rachel always acted oddly about the gang leader. Victor could only guess her father had met Trigon.

"Tara." Gar didn't have to explain anything else.

"I think Rachel's family might have some bad history with him, but that's just a guess. Did she explain the fuss about pancakes?"

"She didn't say much, and I didn't pry. It has something to do with her mother."

"I hear she and Christiana are close, but Rachel makes it hard to tell." Victor decided a change of subject was in order. "Everyone's coupled up but you and Rachel."

"She just got over being mad at me- she held that grudge for six weeks. Could you imagine how many new things she would have to be angry about?" Gar didn't want to explain his real opposition to the idea.

"Why was she mad, anyway?" Victor asked, dropping the other idea. Gar wasn't going to talk.

"She was second fiddle to Tara, and I forgot that there's a huge gap between what Rachel says and what she means." He winced. "After a nice slip of my tongue, she exploded, and then I figured out how to fix matters."

"Why did she explode?"

"She said I couldn't be closest friend to two girls. I was stupid enough to say that I never had claimed to be her closest friend. That's when she dropped me."

"Dropped you?" Victor asked. "Is that a wrestling move or something?"

"She shoved me against a car when I kind of- forget it, I plainly said I was never too busy for her. She already had apologized for all the earlier stuff when I made her really mad. She let me off easy- no bruises." Gar had never seen Rachel lose control.

Victor doubted he should be glad to hear Rachel was shoving people against cars, but he was. She hadn't caused any damage, and was comfortable enough to touch. "You did luck out. I know that you'll be careful with her, Gar- she would have taken to offense at anything, until she had that frustration out of her system. I don't think you saw the look on her face, when Tara hit you that night. Rachel cares about you, but she isn't sure how that works."

"I know," Gar said. "Do you want to call Kori? I think she figured out that I know next to nothing about dating. Tara and I mostly talked about other people."

"The arm thing?" Victor asked.

"Richard stretched for the whole move- and Kori wants an exact definition." Gar's halting explanation had been politely considered, but Kori had confessed 'an utmost desire to speak with friend Victor.' "And you're up- Richard would stutter worse than me, and I already messed up my chance."

"That's for girl talk," Victor said. "Tell Rachel to call her."

"Rachel's got a ton of bio- I do, too, but I'm doing most of it later when the foster parents are home to bother. She might abandon work for Kori, but she told me that she expects no phone calls and that I can talk to her during patrol."

"I'll try." Victor felt that some things were better left for the girls of the team. He did not want to discuss that sort of thing with Kori. "I'm surprised Richard knew- he must have seen the classic movies, or actually paid attention in a theatre."

"I might as well start bio so I at least know what the chapter's about."

"It's biology, Gar," Victor said tolerantly. "How bad can it be?"

"Photosynthesis- everything from Calvin's cycle to exactly what chloroplasts do with sunlight. It should be an easy science- but Dr. Isley's teaching it."

"Good luck. You usually procrastinate with homework- are you showing the fair maiden Rachel your scholarly side?" Victor teased.

"Leave off, will you? Forston Community College is the most scholarly I'm going to get."

"Have you even applied to Bell?" Victor couldn't believe it. Gar's grades were below spectacular, but he was in hard classes and had doctors' notes to prove extraordinary circumstances.

"I couldn't afford it. I'm a ward of the state, remember? That doesn't pay for college."

It wasn't like Gar to be bitter. Victor decided to get past such defenses the most mature way possible. "Fine. I'm calling Rachel."

Gar paled. "You wouldn't." Rachel would not accept excuses, and she would convince his foster parents to start fussing again.

"I am, Gar. She's good at pressuring you, or anyone. Go do your bio homework- but remember, Bell University gives scholarships, and they'll let you in. The bright orphaned cancer patient- milk it, just this once. Free money's never bad. I have about sixteen scholarships for losing my brother and a leg- actually, I have more grants for the fake leg. All you need to do is check "independent" status, list guardians, and give your doc's number."

"Could you tell Rae what lecture you've given me? I'm sure she'll elaborate." Gar knew what Victor meant, and couldn't manage to be offended.

"It isn't too late yet- and we still have time before patrol. Maybe Rachel can talk to Kori," Victor said.

"Maybe." Gar wasn't sure.

"It's a girl thing- I think." Victor punched in the code for Rachel, not offended when Gar left before listening to a possible explosion. It was dangerous to bother Rachel when she was busy with homework. "Rachel? I know I already called you, but I have two favors to ask."

"Oh?"

"Kori has no idea what an arm over the shoulders means in movies. Gar couldn't explain, and I don't know how to explain the girl's perspective. Richard did it, and Kori needs a girl talk."

"Without Richard there, I'll do it. What's the other part?"

"Gar hasn't applied to Bell U."

Rachel frowned. "That can be remedied. I assume there's no good reason."

"He says money."

"Everyone else is accepted- Kori is already dithering about dorm rooms, Richard is looking over crime rates, and you checked garage security."

"You haven't looked into college too much, Rachel."

She shrugged, aware the phone would not pick up the motion. "I don't know if I'll end up in college. There's a family legacy I'm having difficulty avoiding. That won't require a traditional degree."

"You put down your major as microbiology, right?"

"That is very tentative. I'll work on this, Victor. I do want to go to Bell with everyone, but my father doesn't approve."

"I know you will." Victor hadn't heard a mention of her family since that day in the cemetery. "Will you talk to Kori?"

"Yes, I'll call her. I'll just work in the car." Rachel disconnected and tapped in Kori's number. "Kori?"

"Are you calling about the matter of the arm?" Kori asked after Rachel opened the video screen. For Kori, she'd talk closer to face-to-face. Kori was too unsure about girl talks.

"Yes."

"There is no need. I am asking my sister."

"Connie?" Rachel asked.

"Yes, she is my only sister. I will speak with you later." Kori knocked again, trying to convince herself the idea would work. "Connie?"

"What?"

Kori would talk to a door, then. "What does it mean when a male puts his arm about his date's shoulders during a movie?"

"Did he yawn first?" Connie asked.

"Yes."

"Did he move unnecessarily slowly?"

"Yes."

"This was Richard?"

"Yes."

"He likes you."

"Truly?" Kori asked, delighted.

"Yes. Will you leave me be now? I need something to wear to Kitten's party. It's a pool party- no one swims, but it needs to look good for lounging around by the pool in case anyone's silly enough to swim."

"You could borrow my dress from Cousin Diane's wedding, the blue one," Kori offered.

"The blue rag? It might work, but don't start getting an ego." Connie emerged from her wreck of a room a minute later to find the dress hanging on the doorknob. It would work- but this changed nothing. Kori still could have done something to stop what happened, and Connie knew it. If it wasn't the _Masai, _who was it?

Connie remained just as surly after a party riddled by compliments for the dress. Kori had meant something nasty, of course. Connie wouldn't be fooled.

**.One More Call.**  
"Selina?" Bruce asked.

"Could you please give me Kori's phone number? I would like to speak with her," she said, uncomfortable with something as simple as a phone call. She made dozens every day- but not to Bruce.

"Why?"

"I'm telling her first, Bruce- she deserves to hear it without anyone else giving her any bias."

He told her the number. "She and the Titans are meeting here in ten minutes, Vic's picking her up in five. Depending on how long your message is, you might have to wait."

"You've changed, Bruce."

"Maybe I have, Selina. Richard asked me about 'the arm thing'- Gar warned him that Kori's been asking Titans."

"The movie-theatre deal?" Selina asked. "I didn't know they were an item."

"They have been since Kori's birthday. I don't get the full story, but Kori's sister was being nasty. Kori proved whatever point by kissing my nephew, and he didn't mind at all."

Selina shuddered. "Young romance- so full of hormones. It almost makes me glad to be old. How are the others?"

"Victor and his girlfriend split, but it was amiable and he's seeing someone he has yet to mention to me. Gar and Rachel are back to where they were in November, finally." Bruce had watched the drama within the Titans with increasing interest, much to Alfred's amusement.

"How are Gar and Tara?" Selina asked.

Bruce didn't answer for a minute. "Tara was in Slade's employ. She betrayed them on New Year's Eve, and caused that explosion blamed on a gas leak. She saved them in the end, but the building went down on her and she probably will never wake up. She went by Molotov, before."

"Molotov- she always was a wildcard. I had no idea she was a kid."

"It took paramedics hours to get her out. She's in a vegetative state with REM- she might wake up in a hundred years, she might die tomorrow. No one's found any trace of Slade, but there was an hour's gap without any presence on the scene. Someone could have collected a body. Eve put the cop in charge of that on grunt work for the rest of the month."

"How's Gar?" Selina asked.

"Rachel talked to him last night, and I think they're finally past their November argument."

"The last time I asked you about the kids, you didn't know two sentences' worth. You changed all on your own, Bruce- I'm sorry to end this, but I have deadlines to meet. I have some line or other to start tonight- my publicist handles details."

"Are you going alone?" he asked.

She hadn't wanted to come to this point. "No. Jean-Paul is coming with me. Good-bye, Bruce." She listened to his polite good-bye. Maybe she had brought out his bad sides with her Catwoman prowl- or maybe he was finally someone she could deal with. She had a final call to make, regardless.

"Kori, this is Selina. How would you like a job?"

**.Model.**  
"And then she asked if I could step in this weekend as a model- one of her regulars threatened that she- the model- was irreplaceable." Kori knew that Selina had a scattered cast of models. Some spoke no English at all, which was fine with Kori.

"Is this a one-time deal?" Richard asked.

"Maybe, but it would be most pleasant to have a flexible job. Selina understand why I have an erratic schedule, and she will not embarrass models with showy designs to please the heterosexual male crowd. I will take this opportunity," she said, watching the look on his face.

"I don't like it, Kori."

"It is not your choice, Richard," Kori said serenely. "You cannot make decisions for me."

"People are nasty." Richard had heard too many stories of teen models and the culture that went behind the camera.

"Yes, they are. There will be those who are not kind, but this does not mean that all will be unpleasant. I can choose my acquaintances." Kori did not like arguing. "Rachel, do you understand the Calvin cycle?" It was a valid question. She would talk with Richard later, when he cooled down.

"I think I understand it. There's a diagram two chapters ahead, on page 722."

Kori looked ahead, relieved. She wouldn't give up what she wanted to avoid a conflict. She and Richard would fight, eventually, but she would not read that far into the future. For now, they were happy.


	35. Foreshadows

_Here's my disclaimer for the day. Do not get involved in drugs. A senior at my high school recently died in a drug deal gone wrong. He shot a man, and after a few threats involving his family, the young man threw himself off an overpass a mile from our school. Don't do drugs, don't sell drugs, and don't think that doing drugs will make you happy, pretty, or cool. All it will get you is trouble._

_This is a special occasion. I've just typed up three full seventy-page college rule notebooks of writing- and a fourth is going strong. Thanks for reading- but don't think that I'm done yet. This is only the bare beginning of the end._

**Chapter Thirty-five: Foreshadows**  
He was at their oak tree when she ambled into the park. They watched clouds pass over the moon for at least a quarter hour before Jinx could bring herself to start talking.

"Blood's scared, Stone. He's not sure that Slade's gone." Sharing information about a mutual enemy violated no ties. She wouldn't trust that Slade was dead, even if she saw the body herself with a wound or two that would keep even Slade from slinking back to his shadow work.

"There was only an hour, Jinx. Even Slade couldn't have walked away from that explosion. Before the explosion, he was pinned. He had to have been badly injured, and he was buried in rubble." Victor forced himself to relay the facts without forgetting purpose.

"Slade is Trigon's second-in-command. If Slade was dead, Trigon would choose a new person to head up Slade's sector of business. Everyone in the underworld knows who Trigon wants for the next leader, but we all hope that one gets away." Jinx was a villain. She understood how criminals worked, and the hardness required for living on crime. She didn't want to see anyone else forced into that way of thought.

"We can't share everything." Victor would like to know, but Jinx insisted that it was better kept a secret.

"That's a different matter. Slade has his uses, from Trigon's perspective. Blood thinks that Slade squealed about the rebellion. Tara was a part of their plot. I didn't know what she was supposed to do- that was the highest levels. Only Tara and Slade knew. Trigon didn't know what Tara was meant to do." Jinx didn't know how to make Victor understand.

"So, look out for Slade?" Victor knew that people within the HIVE could be a little paranoid, but she seemed a little overzealous.

"Yes. Slade, if alive, will need to prove himself. He was involved with Tara's plot, and Trigon can fill in the blanks in the police report. Watch out for your team, especially people who say they don't need help." Jinx rose, shaking her head. Maybe, if she kept moving, she could leave worries behind. Since when did she have to worry about the good guys? "I can't stay long tonight, Victor." She felt a little better. He knew her suspicions, and he was steady.

"Slade and Blood have targeted us, Jinx, but only one Titan has been really singled out for damage. If you want me to, I'll watch her back." Victor knew that Rachel wouldn't accept offered help.

"Slade's alliance with Blood puts the HIVE in danger. I'm watching for anyone who could need help. If Trigon turns against our school- we'll be in danger. In case of an attack, I'm on the volunteers-only rescue squad for the littlest boarders. The HIVE might sponsor illicit activities- but it's a home."

"I'll talk to Oracle," Victor promised. "If you can repeat all your warnings to her, she'll make the best sense of him. She'll help you if she can."

"There's a newcomer to the HIVE," Jinx said, the last order of business. "He's big enough to make you look like Robin, and he's probably a Trigon plant. He's snooping, Stone- and he's nosing about how much Blood told you."

"Jinx, I can handle him."

"Don't show off your ego, Stone," she snapped. "He's dangerous, and the last thing I need is the Titan I can really talk to dead in a tragic conflict of arrogance and male posturing."

"Nice to know you care," he quipped.

"I _do _care, you idiot. I know he's connected to Trigon. Once he knows what you know, or decides that you're a danger, you could be dead." Jinx was not going to let him ignore the warning.

"I'm sorry, Jinx- it's just a lot to hear."

"You need to know it, and I need to get back. Atlas tried tailing me, but I lost him in the subway."

"Forston doesn't have a subway," Victor said.

"To the lawful, now. It's an underground road for deliveries. It's almost a labyrinth, with guards on a few turns. It can lead to Trigon's house, if you're foolish enough to go there without an invitation and escort."

"Go on, Jinx." Victor knew that she didn't want to leave him- he never had met anyone so protective. "Do you need my phone number, in case we can't meet here?'

"Just say it- I'll remember."

Victor didn't doubt her. "Four eight two, six seven two one."

"He goes by Atlas. Be careful, Victor- you're hard to replace."

"I'll be careful, Jinx- and the same goes for you. Call me if you even think you need help."

For a girl in a hurry, she took her time with a good-bye kiss. She pulled away and waved before hastening down one of the trails. A few minutes later, he headed the opposite direction towards his home.

**.Present.**  
Gar showed up early for Friday night patrol with a bag from the Forston Police Department. Before anyone could ask, he set five presents on the table. "These were kept for a little while as evidence, but the police released them this afternoon. I bought for Tara, and her present is already at the hospital."

Victor picked up his gift. "From Starfire," he read. The odd package was a four-way tire iron for changing tires. Kori had braved a hardware store for him. "Thanks, Kori." If he didn't know what else to say, he didn't have to worry. She smiled as happily as if he had said something much more eloquent.

Kori praised Richard's gift of an amethyst pendant enough to make him blush. She did let a few tears fall when Richard told her that Tara had helped. Kori was the Titan who would be voted most in touch with her emotions, and she found no shame in displaying them. It was better to remember that Tara had been a friend than to remember only the betrayal.

Gar wouldn't say what he had bought for Tara. Instead, he gave an unnecessary amount of attention to Rachel's present from Victor. She assured Victor that the book was fine. Her dreams could use the interpretation.

Richard's present from Tara was a book that no one else had ever seen before. It was a collection of stories about people who had broken past ties to criminals. _I wish I'd had a copy ten years ago- the first taste of crime is bitter, but it's easier than you think to give up. You're stronger than me, Richard- and if you never get this, I'm sorry. If you do- who knows, maybe I did it. _

Rachel's present for Gar was last. The box was large, but most was tissue paper. A garishly bright envelope demanded attention. Inside, he found a note in her meticulously neat handwriting.

_Garfield-  
It might be a new year by the time we get to opening presents. I only have one resolution this year. What's past is past, and bringing up the past is only needed to learn from old mistakes._

_You said you wanted to see me smile. Here's proof- and it's the closest you're going to get.  
-Rachel_

A picture buried in the paper showed a very young Rachel in the playground. The sun was bright, and a beaming young girl kicked her legs forward to swing towards the camera. The background was familiar, a glance of a playground he had visited again to think. He was going to think of something to say- but she saved him of that trouble by not being there.

"Friend Rachel left to don her uniform," Kori said. "She looked slightly flushed."

"The letter's just for you, but is the picture common ground?" Victor asked. He wanted to know what kind of picture would keep Gar staring for six minutes straight.

Gar nodded. The letter had been sealed in an envelope, and the picture was a present. Victor took it, remembering. "She changed most when we were eight, but this is even younger," Victor said. "If she ever opens up again, I know you'll listen- she won't do it for me."

"I hope she'll talk to me someday." Gar took the picture back carefully. "We all can go change now. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, back to business." He would bring the picture home- he knew Shelia would like it, and Harry would have to pay up an old one-dollar bet with this kind of proof.

**.Assignment. **  
"Find out all that you can."

"I will, Trigon," the addressed man answered.

"Take action that cannot be reversed only if needed. You are above petty rivalries, and will act as such." Trigon tolerated no mistakes.

"I understand."

"Summarize your mission- don't parrot it back to me."

"I am to draw the one sometimes called Stone and obtain information about possible connections between Blood, Slade, and their mutiny. I will use permanent harm only if necessary, to keep the police away."

"This will be your last assignment in such low-paying work. If you succeed, you will have quite a promotion. If you fail- you know what your fate will be, Atlas."

"I do."

"Dismissed. Go."

Atlas nodded formally. A few drug deals had gone wrong and stopped a promising career as a football player- but his new job had the potential to be much more rewarding, if just this one mission would go right.

**.Duty. **  
"Rachel."

She turned, but that was all. She was meeting the other Titans, and wanted to make sure that the tension between Richard and Kori didn't break into a fight. Her father had been busy since Slade's betrayal. She should have known that it was a matter of time before he remembered her uses.

"You need a lesson in fighting, daughter."

"Why do you say that, father?"

"Do not question me, daughter. Your precious Titans have not had a true fight in weeks, and you grow weak."

Rachel was not listening to him this time. He would not use words that way. "You grow old. Haven't you ever heard that you should be nice to your children? I will be the one to pick your nursing home, if you live that long."

"Charming. My daughter has forgotten her manners. I think it's time you learned fighting from me. If you try avoiding lessons, I can find someone else to teach."

Rachel stepped forward, dropping her backpack. "Leave Arella out of this. It's a shame that the big bad gang leader resorts to threats to control his daughter. You really aren't doing well with your choices for lieutenants."

"Such a spine, daughter- your friends do you some good, I see. You should be their leader- you have the talent."

"My field leader has the talent and the drive. Maybe I would be more receptive to your demands if you did not accompany each with a threat." Rachel kept circling her father. Right now, they were testing new boundaries.

"Duly noted. Let's call a few standing threats insurance, shall we? You have threatened escape, as if you are in a cage- do you really think that I will not be able to find you?"

"You're stalling, now. If have places to go, but I'll fight you first," Rachel said airily.

"There's some of the family arrogance. Weaponless fighting, this room- try to not bleed on the carpet. I just had it replaced, and you know how spooked blindfolded installment crews are."

"I'll try to not make you bleed on the new sofa," she returned. "I like the color," Rachel said with an indifferent ferocity. She didn't care that he smiled. For the first time in her life, she wasn't scared. She only moved forward to begin the fight.

**.Something Different.**  
"What are you happy about today, Rachel?" Gar asked finally. She had come into the basement as happy as she ever looked, and had remained in the same mood for at least ten minutes.

"I fought my father."

He had guessed something of the sort had happened, from the spreading bruise on her arm. She was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, for one of the very few times since Adonis. Her friends were used the barely visible white scars that crossed her arms- even if the sight of them did make Gar want to go hurt Adonis again. "Is that a good thing?"

"Yes. Besides splitting his lip, I made sure that he understands a few important points."

"Um- good job?" Gar grinned. "Hallmark doesn't cover the occasions I need today. Cards that say 'Way to give your father a well-deserved fight' and 'Congratulations on a modeling job' just aren't typical."

"Let's skip cards until I can do that again. He might stop what bugs me the most." Rachel could stand up to her father- she finally had the confidence. He would let her slowly start in taking over small tasks, there would be no threats towards Titans, and her mother was exempt from arguments.

The elevator opened. Richard turned, expecting Barbara. Instead, Kori stepped out. She wore a formal dress, completely black. She noticed that everyone was staring. "Greetings," she said with a weak smile.

Victor guessed that Richard would be in shocked catatonia for another few minutes. "How did you do, Kori?"

She smiled shyly. "Selina drew up a contract with terms we spelled out. Today, three companies bid for me to work their lines. The setup in this area is odd, so I can act as a free agent and do only walk-ins that fit my schedule."

"You can walk in those?" Gar asked, glancing at a pair of very high heels that probably could be used as a murder weapon, with that sharp of a point.

She took a few sure steps. "Yes. I avoided the steps because of the latticework. Mr. Pennyworth called the elevator for me." She never called him Alfred. That was too formal for the butler, no matter how many times he quietly insisted otherwise- and she knew that the butler enjoyed the slight attention.

"Is the dress yours?" Rachel asked.

"Yes, or I could not have brought it from the premises. Selina gave me a ride here." Kori still would go dress shopping with Rachel. Elinore Stone's wedding still would require two bridesmaids, and the black dress was something her sister would take more pleasure in.

"It's nice," Richard finally managed. Thinking and looking at Kori, especially when she was dressed in something like that, did not go well together.

Kori knew what he meant. "Thank you. I will change now. Connie can have the dress later- I believe the cut is a little low for comfort."

Rachel watched her go. "If I ever have a sister, I want one like her."

"I think you have a sister in her." Victor could get away with lines like that, especially when everyone else was thinking the same thing. "If this is a family, you're the grumpy eldest sister."

"Thanks," she said with a roll of her eyes. She was flattered, not that they had to know. "You're the overprotective older brother, Richard's a born middle child, and Kori's the younger girl that everyone looks out for."

"I wouldn't know- I'm an only child." Richard wasn't sure about one point. "But if Kori and I are dating. . ."

"She's been eyeing you too long to really be called a sister of yours," Gar assured him. "If she was a sister, that'd be incest, and we don't need that." He decided that Richard had turned enough shades of pink for the night. "You left me out, Rachel."

"It's assumed where you fit," Rachel said.

"Is it?"

"You're the youngest in manner and facts." Rachel moved on quickly. "We should all be ready soon- the main drag near the retail sector might be troublesome tonight."

Gar waited until she was gone. "Do I have a shot with her, Victor?"

"Do you want me to be nice or honest?"

"Well, there's a choice," Gar grumbled. "Give me both- nice first, if you please, so I can be happy before I'm crushed.

"She likes you." Victor's voice was barely above a murmur. Rachel would not want to hear this. "There's a mutual attraction and a few sparks- a push could send you in the right direction."

"That's nice. What's honest?" Gar asked.

"You could driver her away just as easily, she's never expressed interest in romance, and she encourages distance."

Richard agreed. "You have a chance. It's just not likely."

"People can't be honest and encouraging, can they?" Gar didn't wait for that answer. "The last five times the girls beat us changing, they had eight new inside jokes we couldn't hope to catch. They don't need the time to plot."

"Agreed." Richard hated missing something, and didn't understand why some accidental word choice of his could make Kori go into peals of laughter and exchange looks with Rachel.

"I'm with you on that." Victor didn't want to know just way they had giggled (in Kori's case) and gave peculiar twitch-smiles (Rachel) at the mention of "aglets." What was so funny about the plastic bits at the end of shoelaces?

Come to think of it, Victor wasn't sure he wanted to know.

**.Action.**  
Rachel's prediction about the retail sector was right. No one asked how or why she knew, and side comments about her uncanny knowledge of the city's underworld brought only a cool stare. She kept her secrets.

Rachel had heard rumors about a few HIVE operatives planning a heist in a twenty-four hour retail chain, hitting the safe. She didn't know there were two HIVE students at each cash register, as was intended. The event of an ambush had been tried many times before, but Rachel was careful to find details. That night, it worked.

The Titans knew they were in trouble when they walked into a silent store. No shoppers pushed carts, no stockers checked the shelves, no cashiers shrilled for price checks. When teams of fighters in black began an approach through the produce section, the Titans formed a ring, backs in.

They fought. Gar ducked into relative safety for a minute, as the smallest. He was guarded by four as he made a quick call for help from the police. Hearing guesses from a Titan who never overestimated in serious situations, Eve sent a dozen squad cars and began to find other free officers.

The HIVE fighters were quietly led by Jinx, who had direct orders from Trigon. Atlas had organized the plot, and Trigon added a few small provisions and issued orders. Her troops of under-trained students lost to the five heroes, but the objective was complete. The Titans were weary, and mistakes were likely.

"Spear formation!" she snapped, drawing attention to herself. Jinx ignored the shocked look on the largest Titan. She had a job to do. Mammoth and Gizmo flanked her. The Asian swordswoman Victor had seen fell just behind the outside. Without a visual or audible signal, they charged together as a phalanx.

They drove the Titans apart. Gizmo drove Gar away from the main fight. As expected, Raven followed to help. Kori found herself fighting Mammoth, and Robin dodged a flat sword that had enough weight to make him nervous. Jinx drove Cyborg back. He let her, trying to decipher a wild look in her eyes. She never fought scared. He didn't consider that Jinx could be leading him into a trap, or that she was bringing him far from everyone, including his friends.

She pushed him against the glass case of the frozen foods section of the supermarket, using a gentle hold that looked painful from a distance. "Victor, I need you to fight me and make it look real." She used his name only when she was serious. "Trigon suspects that I'm in on Blood and Slade's plot, and Blood wants me safe. That's why he tells me nothing. My orders are to bring you in for someone to get answers."

"Orders from who?" he asked, trying to make sure he looked properly angry. Seeing that people were watching, he put up an orchestrated struggle.

"I don't know. I think it's Trigon, but Blood passed them to me. Let's make it convincing, Victor, but I need to lose."

"What about the HIVE?" he asked.

"Forget the HIVE. I'll be in solitary for a few days, not that I'll want to explain how I lost. The HIVE is disintegrating, and this is better. Someone's testing me."

"I wish you'd started out good, Jinx. If you need me to break you out, I'll try."

"That would make it worse," she hissed. "I'm going to fake a choke, and a wild thrash would knock me over. Your friends are only being held off- we're on orders to not hurt them too badly. Go on, Victor." She shifted, exaggerating movements for a distant audience.

He waited to make sure it looked real. She gave a final comment. "Leave bruises. This has to be real, not a throw. We'll have a full-contact spar, but I'll-"

She wasn't ready for the wild punch that kissed her temple. Her surprise was genuine, and she rolled with the impact and sprang to her feet. She flashed him a final smile before scowling at her opponent. Trigon was playing games with her, and she didn't like their choices in rules.

They didn't know how long the contest of speed against strength lasted. Rachel kept the Titans from causing serious harm to Jinx, and was mad enough at herself that no one risked angering her.

Victor found the opening in her guard. She would have a bruise from his full punch to the side of her head. He caught her, when she fell, and set her on the ground. That wasn't unusual. Cyborg was an honorable opponent.

After Jinx fell, the HIVE left. The main objective had failed. Mammoth was the one to carry Jinx away. She was completely limp, and the bruises already were coloring.

"What was that?" Richard asked.

Victor didn't answer until Jinx was out of sight. "She doesn't know, but she thinks Trigon wanted her to get me out of the way. She's caught in something big, and she wants to find out exactly what it is."

"She told you to throw the fight." Gar could only guess. "She likes you."

"She does." Victor needed time to repeat all the information. "Let's head back. Jinx had a lot to say. The HIVE is about to collapse, Trigon knows that Blood was planning a mutiny, and someone might know who I am."

"Let's hear the important parts, from the beginning on." Richard couldn't protest a relationship with Jinx, when she had saved Victor.

"We have all night, so I'll have time." Victor would try later to guess why Rachel looked dangerous. For now, he had a car to drive and a story to tell.

**.Filial Devotion.**  
"Two visits within twelve hours- I am lucky to have such a kind daughter," Trigon said.

"You will not go near my friends again."

"I did not touch a hair on their heads- not that there are any on the friend foolish enough to involve himself with Jinx. Her work has not been the best since Blood let a Titan into his HIVE."

"She only did it to get information from him," Rachel lied. "He wouldn't believe me if I told him. Jinx told him that she thinks the HIVE is dissolving." Rachel was taking a gamble. If it failed, the consequences would be hers alone.

Trigon took the bait. "She's a clever agent, unlike the team he keeps her with." He already had a plan. "When the HIVE falls, she will not be harmed- and her boyfriend will also be safe, don't fret. Blood can't have told him much of anything useful."

"If you're playing games, my friends will not be involved. Arella has had enough, and needs no additional grief." Rachel was not going to let anyone else get involved in their game of family ties.

"You give them enough trouble. Have you forgotten who led them to the ambush, or who was the reason your mother had to have surgery?"

She had no response to that. "I'm not infallible, but neither are you. If you want a second-in-command, remember that I'm not going to do it because of threats."

"You don't want command. Without me, your reign would fall to pieces. You would either be forced to take charge, or watch as all in your employ mill about without penalty for needless deaths. You need me, Rachel, and I need you. Filial devotion is not so bad."

"Neither is parental affection. Some fathers play catch. You taught me how to throw a knife to kill at ten yards."

"Which will be more useful, daughter? Your friends gave you a little confidence, Rachel, but you wouldn't change if your parents were straighter than a good assassin's rife. You still would be a loner- but you would not be able to defend yourself, and you would not have the skills to fight for the law. You don't have natural talent- you have years of expensive training. You will pay your debt."

"You've had blood, sweat, and tears."

"I own you, too, daughter, but it doesn't have to be this way. Don't make me force you, Rachel- we could be partners."

Rachel guessed he was done with confrontation. "Today, we are not." She left with that reassuring thought. He would leave her alone, so she made a phone call. "Victor, pick up," she said quietly, even if no one else could hear.

"Rachel?"

"It's about Jinx. I won't say how I know this, but just trust me. I wouldn't tell you except that you need to know, and you need to tell Jinx."

"No explanations necessary, Rachel," he promised.

"Today- I didn't have the whole story. The point was to test Jinx, and those orders came straight from the top. She passed. The HIVE will fall, but she will be safe. Trigon himself likes her."

"She's safe?" Victor had to make sure.

"She's safer than anyone else in the gang, about now. If I can find her Asian friend, I'll get an untraceable cell to Jinx. It will only call your number, but no one will be able to get your number from the phone."

"Her teammates didn't look very broken up when she lost," Victor said.

"They can't afford to, but they're all close. They don't have anyone else. Jinx is safe, and I think she can call you by tomorrow evening. Don't worry, if she has to wait- I might have to pull a few strings." Rachel was taking another risk, but she had an explanation ready for her father.

"Thanks, Rachel."

"Any time."

**.Solitaire.**  
"Jinx, no one can hear us."

"Tia?" Jinx asked, waking up instantly. It was an old talent; Jinx had never been allowed the luxury of being a heavy sleeper.

"Gizmo's running surveillance and Mammoth's on hall duty for another hour. You have a friend in a high place- there's a cell phone in the spare blanket. Giz is running a sound program and lip cover, but make sure you look angry."

"What's the cell for?" Jinx asked with a false glower.

"A call from the main house said that it'd call your friend. I can't stay long without drawing attention- and don't talk for too long. Giz will flicker the lights when you need to stop. For the rest of time, you're on a loop of sleeping," Tia said quickly. To cover appearances, she kept a hand on an ever-present hilt.

"Thank you."

"We all miss you, girl- Giz and Mammoth don't know what to do with themselves." She ignored a pointed swivel of the security camera. "It's true, Giz, and don't listen to her conversation. I'll be helping with monitors." Tia gave Jinx a last smile. "Keep cool- you'll be out early. As soon as Blood can find an exemption, he's springing you."

Jinx nodded a good-bye and picked up the phone after lying down for a minute, to give Giz a fee. There was one button inside the thin flip-phone. She pushed it, crossing her fingers. Maybe she could have good luck, for once, and someone she wanted to talk to would answer.

"Jinx?"

She relaxed instantly. "Victor. You have some friends in nice places."

"That would be Raven. She called me, early this morning. You're in favor- she sounded nervous about Trigon." Victor had talked to Rachel again while waiting. "Trigon called you 'clever.'"

Jinx paled. "That's not always a good sign. If Raven heard that Trigon mentioned me- I could be working for him soon."

"Isn't that a promotion?"

"Yes, but Trigon is completely unpredictable. I'd rather work with his new helper and take my chances."

"How are you, really?"

"I'm fine. A few people snuck in to visit. Blood likes me, and knows that Trigon has me in favor- I'll be out by tomorrow, waiting for the ax to fall."

"Trigon said that the HIVE will fall, and that you won't be harmed. Tell anyone you know to slip out quietly."

"I will," Jinx promised. "Giz and Mammoth can do it alone, and Tia's actually decent at leading. She likes working solo, but she'll stay with Mammoth for herself and Gizmo as a favor for me."

"Good luck, Jinx."

"I never have caught the hang of that, but there's always this time." She paused. "I hear Blood coming- he has a cane that he uses when no one's watching. Stay safe, Stone- I think that Trigon's done, but it's better to not guess."

"I'll try. You're going to stay." Victor knew that Jinx wouldn't leave her classmates.

"Someone has to- and I'll less likely to be caught in the potential crossfire. If I don't make it-"

"Don't say that."

"I will say it," she said fiercely. "People can get hurt, and I'll miss you until I see you again. As soon as it's safe, I'll see you."

"The tree was watched, a few nights ago."

"Can I come to your house, if I'm not followed?"

"Any time." Victor considered. "You know where?"

"I know, Victor- if I don't see you again, that's my funeral."

"Graveyard humor, Jinx?"

"In times like this, it's the only kind. Later, Victor- blame yourself for anything that happens, and I'll come back, haunt you, and kick your sorry ass." She paused. "If I have the time later, I'll call you back."

"You take care, too," he said. She hung up quickly, hiding the cell phone under her pillow. She was ready when Blood came inside, and greeted him with a spectacular yawn. She felt safe- no amount of compliments from Trigon or assurances from Blood could do that, but Victor could. If she ever had the chance- maybe she could break out of the gang. She could afford the risk, with someone there to help her out. Until then- she was the HIVE's top agent. She would do more than survive- she'd like her last bit of employment in the gang.

**.Friends in High Places.**  
"Victor?" Rachel hadn't expected a phone call.

"I just talked to Jinx. She thinks she might be going to the highest levels of Trigon, and doesn't want to work with the big boss."

"She won't have much choice, if he wants her as an employee." Rachel knew what she would have to do. Victor had meant to just talk to someone who might understand, but he had done more than that. The more favors she asked, the deeper her false promises had to seem true. If all else failed, she'd run away on her eighteenth birthday.

"She said something about his new second-in-command. She won't tell me who he is, but wants away from Trigon."

"Why do I get to hear all this?" Rachel knew the answer- or maybe she didn't. She could guess what his reasoning would be, but maybe she had guessed wrong.

"You don't judge, and I feel like you can understand. You can't help her this time, Rachel, but you listen."

"I would if I could, Victor." Rachel knew she would.

"I know, Rachel. I know."


	36. Trust

_Checks on details were provided by dr.evil99 and Kayasuri-N, and I don't have much to ramble about today. Details from a character's monologue were taken directly from the television show._

**Chapter Thirty-six: Trust**  
"I knew she was dating someone new," Victor said. "Karen and Garth are a couple. I'm over it."

"She ditched you for a guy who calls himself Aqualad on weeknights, and you're not insulted?" Gar asked.

"Coming from a guy who goes by Beast Boy or Garfield, I don't think that's much of an insult," Rachel said.

"How is Jinx?" Kori asked, deciding that the subject could be changed.

"She's out of solitary- Blood found an exemption. The Titans have been upgraded to superheroes- dangerous vigilantes with police cooperation." Victor smiled at that. Jinx was never going to let him hear the end of being a superhero.

"How was the show last night, Kori?" Rachel was curious about a last-minute catwalk stint, and knew that Kori wouldn't flinch in the footlights.

"It was wonderful. Last night was cocktail gowns. Bloomingdale's hosted to pick a fall line for this year."

"You dazzled them, right Kori?" Gar tried to make up for Richard's scowl, but didn't succeed. "You should talk Rachel into going."

Rachel didn't look away from homework. "_If _I decide to show up at the prom, I might wear a dress. Other than that, no."

"Rachel, you're one of two bridesmaids, remember? My mom's grumbled that you probably won't wear a dress, but she's over-planning the wedding." Victor knew he could get away with that much teasing, especially when Rachel was in a rare good mood.

"Fine. I'll wear whatever dress Kori and I agree on, but it better not be pink."

Victor knew that he was pushing the matter. "Kori will have to be with Richard, of course- we wouldn't split them up. You have to dance for at least one song with your groomsman, after the husband-wife and daddy-daughter dance. It's usually a slow song."

Rachel cut Gar a glance. "I suppose I can last for a few minutes, as long as we're not going to make a habit out of this. I need to go ask Dr. Isley about the ATP cycles- I'm busy tonight, and won't have much time for anything. My father planned a daddy-daughter outing- no worries, this one's okay." Rachel had to agree, to keep up appearances. She would stay in Forston as long as she could, and that meant going along with such requests.

"If you're lying and come in with one bruise-" Gar started.

"You'll do what?" Rachel asked, exasperated and a little flattered. It was only a little bit flattered, she reasoned, and nothing serious. "Trust me. We're 'bonding' tonight, nothing more."

"I'll beat him up if he tries anything, Rachel," Gar promised.

That almost startled a laugh out of her. "I'll keep that in mind, but you'd lose. Don't be offended- my father fought Slade and won." Rachel left without further explanation. She would hate the day that she had to leave them, but at least she had a plan.

Gar watched her go. "Am I imagining things, or is she in a good mood?"

"She's in a great mood. She's not been like this since before she was eight." Victor knew they were getting through to her.

"Let's hope it'll last," Richard said, rattled by the casual mention of Slade. "I don't understand her. She throws around big names without a blink. Speaking of all that- Barbara can't find a hint of a second-in-command. Her spies can only report that he's planned on a bit of nepotism."

"Jinx knows, but she won't breathe a hint. She'd give me Blood's shoe size, if I needed it, but won't help me on this." Victor wouldn't think of forcing her- not that he could.

"Rachel might know, but she tells us about big details like that. We could try asking." Gar doubted she would tell, if she hadn't already shared the information.

"I'll ask her this time," Kori offered. "She will not be so mad with me if I properly phrase the question."

"You can try, Kori. She's usually more talkative if she calls you. I'd recommend getting her to call." Gar had the most experience in getting her to talk.

Kori thanked him for the advice before returning to a new hobby. Richard seemed perpetually mad, but there were too many triggers to guess why. Neither listened to a new topic of conversation from Victor.

"Gar, you and Rachel throw off the oddest mix of signals I've ever seen. She won't hear any sort of hint from me- do you like her? You keep acting like you're interested, but then you're strictly platonic."

"No, I'm not really interested." Gar left no significant pause. There was no way to tell if he was lying or not. "We're just good friends, and I want to be the guy who gets her to open up a little more," he fibbed. "Dating isn't all that fun, anyway."

"Don't judge every girl by the first, Gar. Jinx and I have way more fun than Bee and I ever did."

"I'm just not interested in her that way." Gar had rehearsed that lie.

"I was just wondering, that was all." Victor didn't know what to make of the pair. "Are you up for after school? Richard's been bragging about a racing game of his."

"I'll show after an appointment with the doctors. They want more blood- I'm probably sustaining all the vampires in California. With all the politicians, that explains the many tests. I'll never donate, at the rate I lose blood," Gar grumbled. The others were used to his jokes, and soon he and Victor were guessing which politician would need the most blood. Arnold Schwarzenegger won by a landslide, and even Richard had to laugh at the image.

**.Decisions.**  
"What is your choice, daughter?"

"Let's see- the choices are to become second-in-command and begin to assemble a staff, or make some petty refusal and watch you blow a gasket and start killing people. I'll go with number one." Rachel would never tell him her third option. "How much work does this involve?"

Trigon smiled. "I knew you would see sense. Until your birthday, you will have a few administrative tasks as you learn systems. Some fathers give their daughter money for college. I'll give you an empire, and we will work together."

"When do I start administrative?"

"You'll need an assistant. Choose one you can trust, and keep them a few steps behind." He held out a list. "These people are available."

Rachel glanced through the names. Assassins, bodyguards, intimidation experts, a dweeby tactician, hitmen, more bodyguards- she couldn't pull off her plan with someone who pledged loyalty to Trigon first. She read the latest addition, far at the bottom of the list.

"I've found my assistant, father."

**.Solutions.**  
"Rachel?" Victor felt like he always answered the phone with a question.

"Jinx is safe. She's not working directly with Trigon."

"How do you know these things?" He couldn't help but ask, after years of odd knowledge and cryptic remarks.

"Let's just say I have my ways. Kori wants to talk to me today, undoubtedly to guess who's new in Trigon's employ."

"Rachel, you're different." He couldn't name the change, but it was there.

"A few old issues are gone. My father thinks that I'm going along with him, but I have a few safety nets."

Victor could get nothing else from her, so he gave up, letting her call Kori. Victor had another call to make. "Jinx, Raven's acting really weird," he said when she picked up. "She did say you're not with Trigon."

"I just heard." Jinx was giddy with relief. "I'm working for his new second, a great improvement. I can stay at the HIVE- until it's gone, but everyone there but Blood believes it will fall."

"You won't give a name?"

"No, I won't." Jinx was honest, no matter how much it hurt. "I owe this person my loyalty, and you won't persuade me otherwise. That guy I told you about, Atlas- he's out of the HIVE, and free-roaming. He gave Trigon his plan. I managed to mess it up, so he's angry."

"Congratulations. I hope you and Trigon's new pet have fun."

"Stone, I do not like what you are insinuating," she said, tone as glacial as his was dismissive. If he dared to hang up- she would go over there and finish the conversation face to face. "I am dating _you, _and we better be exclusive. You're assuming again, besides. Did anyone ever tell you that the new second is male?"

"I didn't mean-"

"I'll talk to you later, okay? I know what you meant. I'm not Tara. I hate subterfuge- I'd rather lose a good fight than win by tricks."

"I'm sorry, Jinx, but it's hard to know. This never happens in romance stories- this is supposed to be easy."

"Look how Romeo and Juliet ended up," she said severely. "Dying is easy. Living is the harder part. Go on, off with you. Tia owes me a saber practice, and I'll lose while working off steam."

"I'll go beat my head against a wall- or talk to Robin. It's about the same. Something's bugging him, so he's doing the natural thing and being manly about it."

Jinx laughed. "I only deal with you, extra-large, and the midget. Mammoth gets sent to Tia whenever he's in a bad mood, and we can get Gizmo happy again by giving him a broken toaster to take apart. I either tackle problems or distract myself with combat."

"You'll be okay, right?"

"I'll be fine, Stone. I know you weren't trying to be mean. Go on, beat your head against a brick wall. I'm up for a saber fight."

"I'll find out who the second is eventually, Jinx- but if you don't want to tell me, I won't ask."

"You'll know, Victor, but that isn't my affair. I'll just say one thing- don't shoot and then ask questions. All dead people do in an interrogation room is stink." She left him with that uplifting thought.

Victor was not looking forward to the next talk. He would almost rather go fight with Jinx again. "Richard, I need to ask you something." There was no response, even though Richard was in the weight room. Victor gave up and moved inside the workout gym. "Look away from business for a minute, will you? The team's not drifting apart on my watch. I promise I won't tell her what's bothering you."

"Kori knows. I told her I don't like the idea."

Victor took a seat. "Tell me its more than her part-time job."

"It's not the usual problem. My mother was into modeling- Alfred showed me the old picture albums. That's how she met my father."

"She wouldn't mess around like that, Richard." Victor waited for the rest of the story before deciding that Richard was needlessly worrying.

"I know, but- that's how my dad met her. Imagine Bruce, when we met him- then picture him younger, with bad-boy charm instead of idealistic morals."

"So- someone a little like you, before Kori came along."

If anyone else had said that, Richard would have fought the point. Victor didn't lie. "A little," Richard admitted.

"She won't, Richard, and you need to tell her about this. We both know she doesn't get angry often. If you let her wait this out, she'll be mad."

"I think I'll call her." Richard didn't want to see Kori mad at him again.

"She might be talking to Rachel, and Kori said she'd come here today." Victor heard a slamming door. Well, that was earlier than expected. "Your uncle's busy brooding, Alfred's too well-mannered to slam doors, and the main entrance weighs about three Rachels and a Gar. I think you should talk to her." Regretting his desertion only a little, Victor dodged into his room.

"Kori, I think I owe you a history," Richard said before Kori was all the way down the spiral staircase.

"You owe me nothing. I did not tell of my past to indebt you." She moved into the weight room, taking a seat beside him on the press bench.

"My father was pretty deep in the gang, and everyone has heard a few stories. The person I don't know much about is my mother. She left when I was four, and my father always thought she'd come back."

Kori didn't ask why. She only put her hand on his, letting him tell the story at his own pace.

"My mother was an acrobat, but she tried modeling for a while. That's how she met my father."

"Richard, no one will replace you," she said. Kori was serious. "We still have a few hours until patrol, and I know you have trained enough. Let's go out to dinner."

He paused for only a moment. He hadn't done any working out- mostly, he had stared at the ceiling and tried to guess what to do for hours. The answer was easy. "You pick, I'll pay."

"I am capable of paying my half of our tab. I do not understand this custom. It leaves the assumption that I will pay you back in another fashion, which has not seemed your intention."

"It doesn't mean _that," _he said, coloring. "It won't to me."

She smiled. "This is part of your chivalry, is it not?"

"Chivalry?" Richard had never heard that term applied to him.

"Yes, chivalry," Kori said, warning to the idea. That was indeed the right term for his protective behavior. "Let us go out to eat- the others will not need us until later."

**.Chivalry.**  
Robin yawned as he left the police station. The Titans (or Beast Boy, to be technical) had stumbled into a drug ring conducted in alleys of the town's industrial sector. Clearing out dealers was nothing compared to the paperwork that followed. Raven and Cyborg usually helped with the stacks of paperwork while Starfire and Beast Boy helped with incident reports. That had changed. Starfire had a minor cut that would need stitches, so Raven was taking care of the medical problem.

The man who had cut her had yet to regain consciousness. The police already had written up incident reports justifying use of force, and he only had needed to slog through the usual forms.

Robin walked home. Cyborg had offered to come back, but Robin didn't mind the trip. The adrenaline of a fight hadn't left him during paper pushing, and he was ready to fight anyone who came his way. He answered his communicator right away, hoping for a fight. "Robin in," he said to the dark screen. It could be Raven calling him. She rarely used the video feature.

"Richard."

He froze. He had thought that the voice was gone forever, with the man who used it. He had been wrong. Richard bit his lip, hard. It hurt. He wasn't dreaming. Slade was back.

"Don't bite your lip so," the voice through the communicator said softly. Richard thought of silk nooses being used to strangle people. "I have an offer for you."

"What? You'll let me stake you through the heart so I can really kill you?" Richard said, hating that his pulse was already starting to race. He was- scared. Slade was someone he didn't want to talk to at all, much less when he was alone in the middle of streets police cars only went down in times of emergency.

"No. I have a business proposition. Before this, I was testing you. For some time I have been searching for a true apprentice, one who would not turn against me. I seek someone who can follow in my footsteps. And Robin- I've chosen you. Congratulations."

"You're dead," Richard said, wishing that he was dreaming. "And I'll be dead before I work for you."

"Now, now, no need for falsehoods," Slade mocked. "Don't call for help just yet. Keep looking at the communicator, that's a boy- no, I'm not in the bushes, stop glancing about like you have a palsy. Before you make any hasty decisions, I have a movie for you to watch. Now, eyes on the communicator- I won't hurt you now, when there is so much left to do."

Robin watched the communicator warily, holding it so that he could see around him as he put his back to the wall. The first video moved quickly, walking through Victor Stone's house and into his bedroom. The sleeping teenager never woke up, even when the cameraman was dangerously close. The second portion of a hastened movie showed a jerky walk through Garfield Logan's home, ending with a panorama of the messy bedroom only Gar could inhabit. The third movie showed only a hallway and a bedroom, but that was enough to make the image of a slowly breathing Rachel Roth chilling. The last movie was the worse. It was not fast-forwarded at all. Instead, the film showed a climb up the outside trellis. The camera was only four feet from Kori, and a close-up of her sleeping face showed a smile playing on her lips.

"What do you want?" Richard asked in a voice that was certainly to raspy to be his.

"I seem to have lost my previous apprentice. If you do not follow orders, if you fail in a task, if you even hint about this new arrangement to any of your precious friends. . . let's be creative. If I can find all of them so easily, killing them would be even simpler," Slade explained, as if it were the most rational thing in the world.

"Why?"

"That is not what an apprentice should ask. If such impertinence is common, I could corner a pretty red-headed friend of yours. You would not want that to happen." Slade used the hero's own honor against him- it often made the best weapon. Robin would never let tragedy befall his friends.

"What will you want me to do?"

"That's a better question. I will be in contact. You demolished your last link to me. Come into the alley to your left- no, turn a little more right, now straight ahead." Slade was waiting in the alley. His mask covered all of his face, giving a threatening silhouette in the very dim light. "This one will be more durable," he said, offering a communicator.

Richard took it. He had no choice. "Am I supposed to thank you?" he asked.

"Not yet," Slade said. "Run along home- and I will know who you tell, just as I know that your precious uncle works nights far too often for an accountant. The link is not to leave your side."

Even if Richard had known what to say to that, Slade was gone. Richard trudged home, the small gadget weighing him down."

Kori noticed immediately. "Richard, what is wrong?"

"It's nothing, Kori- I'm just tired."

Kori knew that was a lie. Richard wouldn't be tired after a fight like that. He didn't even ask about the eight stitches on her abdomen before yawning and heading upstairs. Something had happened. He was fine at the station, and wouldn't be mad to not have a ride. He liked walking at night. She hadn't done anything that she could think of, and the others had been fine- but yet he still looked defeated.

"I will speak with him tomorrow," Kori said quietly. "Are we all ready to go home?"

Rachel, Gar, and Victor had changed, and there was no need to stay in the basement all night. They left, just as puzzled as Kori. She didn't stay angry at herself for an entire restless night. Old resentment slithered into memory, a remembrance of the last time that Richard's moods had been so unpredictable. She would ask directly, this time, and she would expect an answer.

Richard needed some sort of disguise. He sifted through layers in his closet, finally reaching a box he hadn't needed for a long time. It was predictable, perhaps, but it was his first option. He opened it- to find a note, and nothing else.

_I know you weren't going to use this any time soon, and the best thieves have ways of costuming up and getting an instant reputation. I might meet you a few times, but I think your friends will be able to tell the difference. Here's hoping you can break in and out-  
-Red X_

Richard knew he had to tell the team- but it was four A.M. He had been pacing, a preferred nervous hobby of Bruce's. He couldn't call from a telephone from this hour. A communicator would be his best bet. The link to Slade made him hesitate as he reached his Titans communicator. He would only tell Kori about the new Red X. Resigned to disbelief, he headed for the basement.

Alfred was there, ready with old-fashioned British manners. "Master Dick, I would hope you would sleep at this hour of the night."

No one else could get away with familiar British terms. No one else could ask a question with a simple hope. "I need to talk to Kori. Even if I wake her up, she'll be angrier the longer I wait."

"Why ever would you call Miss Anders at this time of night?"

"Someone stole my Red X costume, and I don't know who, when, or why."

"Ah- so you are in need in detective work. Mister Drake has experience in that regard, and has heard many details from Barbara. He know aids Oracle with her work." Alfred would not mind dusting an adjacent room when Tim and Richard talked.

"I don't need Tim." Richard was tired of 'Mister Drake.' He had never heard of a boyfriend of Barbara's gaining approval, even before she dated 'that Jason fellow.'

"You certainly need someone. Miss Anders will want facts to help belief of your tale."

Richard went back to his room, mumbling about know-it-all butlers. He could do detective work without a nosy wannabe-detective of a reporter. He looked at the trashed closet. That was no help. The note was on a blank piece of paper. So- the robbery had taken place after paper was used routinely. That put it within the last century. There was only one logical action to take.

He threw the shoebox across the room- and a receipt fluttered from a corner of the cardboard. A week and two days before, someone had visited a supermarket. That had not been Richard- but anyone could have bought a bottle of pop.

He had another detail, but would have to defend himself later. The link was ringing. Robin knew who that had to be. "What do you want?" Politeness was no issue, and forced labor wouldn't be done happily.

"Awake? Good. Meet me at Murray's Gym, on the corner of South Lake and Bryant. You will receive all necessary details there. Bring nothing that is not vital." Slade's instructions were brief. There was no debate, when Slade held every card.

Richard left his Titans communicator in his room. Communicators had no answering machines, and he forgot to turn it off. Only Alfred heard a few quiet greetings from Kori- and not even the butler expected that the person meant to answer them had slipped out the window.

Slade know he only had forced loyalty from his new apprentice, but that was no matter. This was a kind of loyalty he could depend on.

**.Suspicion.**  
Kori did not like being angry. She felt likely to fly into a rage at any given moment, and wasn't sure how to come down again. Greater than her hesitance was her anger. Richard had not answered, and she knew he should have been able to hear her. She ignored Richard, as she had been doing since before school. If he wanted to talk with her, that was his problem.

"I need to say something," Richard finally said. Three people looked at him. "I was going to tell you last night, Kori, but something came up."

Kori still pointedly refused to look at him. "What 'something' kept you from answering my call?" she asked stiffly.

"I was trying to find clues," he lied. He couldn't tell them the truth. It was worse than anything they could assume, and the threats rang in his mind. Kori had smiled through her dreams, and he wouldn't disrupt that. "Someone stole my old Red X get-up. That person dropped a receipt, so this happened within the last week."

"What threw you off last night?" Victor asked. "You were acting weird before you headed up."

"I just had tunnel vision from paperwork." It wasn't working. He needed a further excuse. "Barbara's finally warmed up to me again, and I was going to try a ceremonial burning to prove that we could be good friends. The thief left a note," he offered finally, holding out the slip of paper crinkled from time in his pocket as proof.

They read it. Kori glanced through the note before snapping her eyes to meet his. He knew that he wasn't allowed to look away.

"I'm not lying, Kori. Can't you believe me?"

"Perhaps I can, Richard." She knew that a lie wouldn't help. Richard was a better liar than this, unless he was trying to trick her- _no, _she decided. "I will try to trust you, Richard." It was hard, after the last time. Kori had thought that Red X was gone.

"Kori, I couldn't do that. Not again," he said, hating how desperate he sounded. She had to believe him.

"I will speak with you after school, Richard, and only then." Kori left quickly, and used the crowd of the lunchroom to mask her retreat.

"She was hurt, last time," Victor said. "I trust you wouldn't be stupid enough to do that to her twice. This time, she might not forgive you."

"If you were considering it- don't. Maybe I'm just inexperienced in lying, but I don't think that you have Red X on the mind." Gar decided a just-in-case warning would go well with honesty.

"Rachel- aren't you going to add anything?" Richard asked after a minute. He was ready to accept her scathing comment and move on.

"No. You know what I would say, and I think Kori needs someone right now. As she has likely gone to the ladies' room, that leaves the rest of you out." Rachel knew that Kori may need a shoulder to cry on, but that wasn't so threatening. Rachel had two, after all.

Victor and Gar were the only two people to stay at the table. Richard left for gym early, leaving room for a conversation. Victor knew what Rachel had volunteered for. "Kori's not at all wary of expressing emotion. Rachel just volunteered to go comfort a crying person."

"She's changing. She didn't even blast Richard. I don't know her any more, sometimes- she's worried about something." Gar was sure.

"She isn't telling anyone, Gar. Even Kori can't get a hint. I've never seen her like this."

"Richard was acting odd before the theft. I think something else is going on, besides Red X- and I don't think he's up for a return as a thief. Kori's keeping quiet about her sister, but Connie has been making a few nasty comments." Gar listed off problems, shaking his head at the list. "You and Jinx are worried- and I'm the only Titan without something to think over."

"I think you lied, before. You and Rachel are too close to just be friends," Victor accused. No one else was there to hear.

"Rachel and I are just very good friends. Besides- look at how well a romance worked out last time."

"You and Tara were friends. Did you ever do more than kiss?"

"Victor-"

"You don't have to answer- everyone but Rachel knows, and Rachel knew enough." Victor may have said too much, but everyone else knew.

"What?" Gar didn't get it. "What does Rachel know?"

Victor knew it would hurt- but would it be better to hear, ten years down the road? Enough time would never pass. "Rachel knew how . . . involved Tara and Slade were, but promised to not tell. I heard from Jinx- and I talked to Kori. We both think that you should know, even if it hurts."

Gar knew the answer, but he still asked. "You mean- _involved _involved?" Gar choked out. That would explain too many small references.

"Yes, before and after she met us. Tara thought Slade loved her."

"You mean . . ." Gar thought of Tara's small oddities, her odd schedules, her reluctance to go far at all. "Tara was a friend," he said finally.

"I know it's hard, knowing that- but if anyone deserves the truth, it's you." Victor hadn't agreed, originally, but Kori had changed his mind.

"I-" Gar could hear every time Tara had made a slip. "I guess I have a problem, too," Gar said shakily. That was something to consider, and it wasn't pleasant or unpleasant at the moment. It was- shock. A ringing bell grounded his thoughts after a few minutes. "I'll see you after school. I just need to adjust to the idea- but thanks for telling me."

Victor knew the choice was made. Even if it was the worse choice, it was finished. Now, to tell Rachel. He made the quiet announcement after school, skipping a preamble. "He knows, Rachel," Victor said before anyone else made it to the car.

"What?"

Maybe a little preamble would have been helpful. "Gar knows about Tara and Slade," he clarified.

"He's known that Tara and Slade worked together," Rachel said carefully.

"Jinx told me Tara's half of the deal, and I didn't ask for yours. Gar deserves to know, so I told him."

Rachel nodded shortly. "I promised Tara. She never told anyone else my secret, no matter what other betrayal was made."

"Why do you need to hide, Rachel? You know that we visit her hospital room occasionally, after all that she did."

Rachel looked at the rearview mirror. Gar was almost to the car. "The longer I wait, the more impossible it will be to tell. It's- I just can't. This has been a part of me forever, and it's nothing I can change."

"If you ever need to tell, any or all of us will listen, Rachel."

She kept her eye on the mirror. "I know. Let's just say it won't make a difference, no matter what I have to do. This is my past, future, and present- and I'll tell you someday." Rachel planned to tell them in a note explaining why she was leaving home.

"If that's what you want," Victor said. He didn't try to persuade her. In time, maybe she could trust him.

**.Trust. **  
"Kori-"

"I apologize, Richard. I trust you- but it's hard to remember how you did that to us." Kori had made her decision before reaching the basement, and she didn't need to hear an apology from Richard. "You're still stressed- do you want a round in the hologym? I'll run through the Slade program with you," she offered.

Kori didn't understand Richard's weak smile, but he accepted. That was what mattered. Throughout the simulation, she grew more concerned. Richard was almost manic in his destruction of Slade's many pixilated minions. When the virtual Slade appeared, Kori wouldn't watch the fight.

She ripped the headset away, breathing quickly as she recovered from the sight. She waited for Richard to rejoin reality. She wondered just how much he was like his father. "Richard," she said when he removed his headset, "I never before have seen blood produced in the hologym. Slade is dead, and there is no reason for such ferocity."

"Maybe he isn't," Richard said. He couldn't tell her, but- she never had backed away.

"Richard, you are drawing blood from ghosts. You programmed a knife. The Titans do not use lethal force." Kori didn't understand how he could look repentant and not be sorry.

"I can't explain, Kori."

"Then I cannot understand, Richard. I have seen what leads to the bad things. You- you act like Connie, Richard. You are distant, and have been since you walked home alone." She was close to tears, but swallowed back the rush of salt to continue. "If there is another female, I can understand. I only ask you choose one."

"Never, Kori. I would never forget who I have, and you're everything. I- I just can't explain this. Can you trust me?" he asked urgently.

"You are asking much."

"I promise you, Kori- I am not Red X again, there is no other woman, and I wish I could tell you."

"It is not possible to tell me, Richard?"

"If it was, you'd know everything."

"I trust you, Richard." Kori left uneasy feelings behind. She knew that attitude didn't come from blood relations, and she did trust Richard.

"Kori, you can do that. I will never hurt you." _Never. _Richard had a promise to keep, and that was more important than a villain's threats. Losing Kori would be worse than anything Slade could do to him, and Kori understood without explanation- he only hoped that he could prove worthy of her trust.


	37. Counsel

_There will be brief allusions to both the television show and the comics. Some are meant to be caught, and others are purposely vague. This isn't a contest- this is just my way of keeping comic fans amused. As for complaints about chapters- I don't pay attention, to be honest. Most of this is previously written, and typing it up and doing last edits is the time-cruncher. If I have planned a chapter that will focus on Victor, it's going to happen. If there isn't much Kori-Richard or Gar-Rae, well- that's life. You can't rush romance, and I believe that people will eventually get tired of non-stop action and fluff. For this chapter- romance and action with a bit of tension, and the other characters will be more in focus later. Too much of a good thing will just spoil all of you, anyway- gripe all you wish, I like to think I know what I'm doing._

**Chapter Thirty-seven: Counsel  
**"Babs, how did you know that Tim was the guy you should date?"

Barbara checked the caller ID, even in the middle of their conversation. "Selina, I'm the last person to ask after I dated Jason Todd. Tim- he figured out Batman's identity and didn't tell, and he had the decency to swear and not apologize for it when I intentionally ran over his toes. We had a few fights- but he kept coming back, and I never let an intern hand over the police reports to the annoying young reporter."

"Jean-Paul is impossible. Whenever he isn't looking at one of the models, he's fussing about the possibility of a collaboration show. I told him he won't work with Kori- he stares, and only the people who need money or attention deal with him. I'm about to break it off- but he isn't really the problem."

"Selina, you're pacing." The sound of heels on tile was unmistakable. "If you're thinking about a certain accountant, he's still single," Barbara said. Saying that little wasn't interfering.

"I thought I was over him, Barbara."

"This time, he's ready. You should hear the stories of how Alfred's been harassing him about the fact that men do like to have relationships. Poor Richard- the kid nearly had a heart attack when he had to borrow shaving cream from the master bathroom." Barbara couldn't help grinning at that memory- Alfred made his points very clearly.

Selina could guess what the very forthright Alfred would signal with. "So, Bruce is ready for commitment- or at least some sort of time-length, if that's involved, and Alfred doesn't approve of one night stands. That's the kind of story you tell at a wedding reception- the butler did it."

"Give him a try, Selina- I'm only a little biased for him. He hasn't even had a date since Miss Train Wreck, and his company's trying to shove him into dating someone."

"Talia?" Selina shuddered. "Well- maybe I'll find Bruce's number. I won't move in with Az- he's crazy about some ancient order of St. Whoozit's. Anyone drunk enough to appreciate the décor is probably in danger of alcohol poisoning or horrid taste. I won't leave him alone, in any case- his publicist wants a raise."

"A raise?" Barbara asked.

"In many things- salary, status, fame, other connotations." Selina forgot that line of conversation- she had other things on the mind. "Do you think it could work, Barbara?"

"Oracle refuses to comment on romance- look where my odds went on you and Bruce giving in and getting through all the UST years ago. Give the relationship a try, though- that's just my opinion, without any exhaustive research."

"UST?"

"Unresolved sexual tension," Barbara said primly. "Good luck, Selina- don't knock him too dead."

"Same to you- I guess you'd know Drake has been prowling jewelry stores and accosting innocent passersby about what a police officer would like."

"He _is?" _

Selina smiled. "Oracle, Oracle- it must be love, if you aren't spying. He was looking at diamonds."

"We haven't even been dating six months."

"Play it cool, Babs- if you can handle a potential engagement, I'll try with Bruce."

"Really?" Barbara asked.

"I'll call him now. Deal?"

"You want details on any asking, don't you?"

Selina grinned. "Catwoman, remember? I want the full story on anything that involves a ring."

**.Signal. **  
"Richard, you weren't in your room last night."

"That's none of your business, Bruce," Richard warned.

"I'm your legal guardian. The last time you were this irresponsible about telling me when you were leaving, you were in serious trouble with the law. I knocked on your door because Kori was calling you- your team doesn't know about this." Bruce wasn't backing down.

"Wha- what did Kori say?" Richard asked.

"She said that she'd listen whenever you're ready to tell. She trusts you, Richard. I know you're smart enough to guess that she's one of a kind."

"Like Selina?" Richard had seen the caller ID, and knew that Kori would love to hear about "Mr. Wayne" blushing. "Bruce, you don't need to worry about anyone getting hurt this time. I won't let that happen."

"If you ever need help, I'm a signal away."

"Signal?"

"It's a searchlight on top of the police station- that will call me, if I'm anywhere in Forston. The signal is for emergencies- just let Barbara, her father, or Chief Phillips know. They can activate it."

"If I need help, I'll call."

"I hope you will, Richard- it's admitting that you need help that's the hard part."

**.HIVE. **  
"Cyborg, can you head downtown?"

"Jinx?" Victor picked up the communicator. If she was calling him at one in the morning, it was serious. "When do you need me?" She only asked for Cyborg when there was trouble.

"At the HIVE, five minutes ago- the police are here to take the kids to safety, but there's a standoff. The Atlas guy wants to take down the HIVE, and my crowd won't give up the kids. Trigon wants to train those kids himself, and we won't let it happen."

He already had changed into his uniform. Caution didn't matter- Jinx needed help. He was pulling on his mask while navigating a dark hallway when he nearly collided with someone.

"Cyborg?"

"Hi, dad- no time to explain now, but I'll talk to you the next time I see you. Someone needs me right now."

Silas Stone saw his son. "Go help, then, Victor- I'll have breakfast ready when you get back. I can wait a few hours."

"Thanks, dad." He left the driveway as the car changed, a bright flash of motion on a dignified street. He pulled to a complete stop, grumbling at the loss in time, and then sped out of the gates that enclosed the subdivision. He pulled up to the HIVE in a squeal of tires, not bothering with smooth stops. A few officers he recognized greeted him. "Cyborg, one suspect claims she knows you-"

"Jinx is an old friend, and I know she and Oracle have been corresponding. She called me in to help. I heard that Atlas is gunning for me."

An officer hesitated. "He wants a match, yes, but the police will not-"

"I don't need to beat him. I need to keep him occupied while you get those kids out of here. Don't arrest the teenagers- they're against Trigon. If you put them in jail, they'll be a misplaced gang with loyalty to no one."

Eve heard him. "It's your call, Cyborg. You know these kids. Officers, keep guns ready in holsters- not out, Stinson. As soon as our Titan engages, we get the kids. Once they're out, we signal Cyborg and get the heck out of here. Got it?"

Cyborg nodded, but didn't agree. He didn't have to take Atlas down for pride- but safety was another story. He moved into the gymnasium, watching for his opponent. There was only one other person in the room. Trigon's shock-troops had left, but the effects of gunfire and explosives lingered in bullet holes and burn marks. Cyborg knew who the other person had to be. "Atlas."

"Cyborg."

They needed no other exchange. In a clash of punches, the fight began. Victor knew the fight was an even match even before an exchange of blocked kicks.

Victor couldn't remember a play-by-play of the fight. It was noise and sweat and fighting and dimmed lights and ambulance sirens and the bull-horns yelling for his retreat. Atlas was too close to Trigon to give up, and Cyborg knew better than to turn his back on an enemy with too many ties to someone that powerful. If only Victor was faster, a little more agile- but he was strong, and that would have to be enough.

He felt someone behind him with the sense that he had watched in Rachel and Richard. He glanced back over his shoulder, and saw the flash of pink hair move in to stand beside him. "You don't have to be here, Jinx."

"You can use the help- and I want to land a few kicks."

"I'll keep the left, if you don't mind keeping the right side."

Jinx smiled, and the scattered display of non-broken lights gave her a completely feral look. "I'm game any day for a shot at the guy who took down my home- especially if he tries beating up my boyfriend." She smiled at the way he stood a little straighter. So she wasn't big on such labels- well, it only made the occasional mention all the more appreciated, didn't "I won't lecture you, Cyborg. That was one hell of a fight." Barbara checked the time. "You can take the ice off of your knee now. Miss Jinx, I do not want to hear of you being anywhere about town without that brace on your wrist. A few police reports of your 'arrest' are out."

"Thanks, Miss Gordon."

Barbara gave the girl a suspicious look. "Jinx, you're a fighter I would have loved to tangle with when I was in the active part of duty. I'm sure that everyone who ever was near Joker knows that I was Batgirl. Here, I'll go by Barbara at the most formal."

"The HIVE never liked him- not that I'm in the HIVE any more. I'm with Trigon's new second, as was before the fall," Jinx said. She believed in honesty, an odd trait for a crook. Who knew when a lie would need credibility to back it up? "I'll keep that identity, no matter how silly it seems."

"I only take information from people who want to tell, or who end up in police interrogation," Barbara assured her. "And if you start calling me Miss Gordon again, I'll have to assume that you have a concussion. I'm the desk officer, and I've heard tapes from the police cruisers for the time you managed to slip out of the front window while they did a traffic stop."

Jinx blushed. She had been using language she usually avoided. "That Adams fellow did place his hand a little too conveniently for himself, and I know they didn't understand the bits about their uncle and the camel. That dialect is only spoken in some parts of Kashmir, outside India."

"Adams tried it again?" Barbara asked with a sigh. "He's stopped since then. A prim young Asian lady from the HIVE threatened to slice off wandering fingers."

Jinx shrugged. "Tia will get by. She and Mammoth promised me that they'd keep Gizmo and the rest of my usual crowd around. She's fed up with both gangs and Trigon, and they're looking to cause trouble for Trigon. They were calling themselves the HIVE five, but then they reached too many. They'll cause mischief for Trigon, with no civilian casualties."

"If you can trust me with names, I can keep them safe from arrest. No records, no trace."

"You can do that?" Jinx asked, glancing at one of many haphazard piles of paperwork. She didn't truce bureaucracy to keep anyone safe. Look how well it looked for her many victims.

"As Barbara Gordon, receptionist officer? No." A quick glance showed that no one was near. "As Oracle, I can help bring down Trigon and everyone that resists."

"I'm in- Oracle." Jinx would give code-names. In the cases she knew real names, she doubted that anyone would believe her. Mykron O'Jenius? It almost made Gizmo sound normal.

**.Interlude.**  
"You resent me."

"What do you expect? You coerce me into apprenticeship through threats to friends, and look for anything but resentment?" Richard could never bring his eyes to adjust to the full dark of Slade's warehouse, but still had to fight.

"Consider me a father, Robin."

"I had a father."

"Past tense, apprentice?"

Richard glared into the darkness, remembering Rachel's technique. "You would know. You killed my father."

A few seconds later, the slow drawl of a reply came. "That's right- I did. The Titans and your uncle are just as expendable. Guard."

That was the only warning. Richard fought. It was the only way.

**.Just a Little Bit Awkward.  
**_This could be uncomfortable. _Victor had taken off his mask, but he still felt that he should knock. He was surprised when the door opened- his father hadn't been a dream, then. "Dad, I'd like to introduce Jinx. We're- dating." The last word was a little hesitant, but Jinx gave a small smile.

Silas Stone looked from his son to the pink-haired girl he had read about in newspapers. He had been paying less attention to his son's life than he had guessed. He had no reason to judge. "I'm happy to meet you, Jinx. In a moment I can have a third plate ready."

Victor stepped inside, guiding a startled Jinx and waiting for the outburst. She was not easily ruffled, but when she was, the results were interesting. She lasted until a plate, napkin, fork, knife, and cup were arranged on the table.

"Excuse me, Mr. Stone, but I believe you know what type of school I've attended for the past few years," she said levelly. She had been leery of accompanying him home, and had planned to leave before Mr. Stone could make any sort of appearance.

"Compared to the girls my Derek brought home, I'd take an honest thief any day," Silas quipped.

Jinx shot Victor a look- _later. _She hadn't heard of the Derek character, but guessed that it might not be a good idea to ask in front of the father. "You're someone else, if you'll pardon me saying so. You son is a superhero, he's dating a criminal, and you make a mean omelet- even in hours that most folk are dead to the world."

"I'm catching up, I guess. I've always been a night owl, and never asked why Victor came home so late. For all I knew, Victor was on four kinds of drugs and 'rolling' every night, or whatever the term is." Silas had never been so happy to have a theory disproved- he had guessed that his son wasn't that type, but Derek had been one of the popular crowd.

"I still am here," Victor reminded them. "There is such a thing as a guy's father and girlfriend getting along too well." He glanced at his empty plate. "Gar would have a few things to say, with all the meat being eaten- he doesn't have as many issues with eggs."

"Gar?" his father prompted.

"You've met Garfield- Jinx, if you're considering making fun of the poor guy his name, don't worry. Raven covers that, and I know that you know Rachel, dad. Gar's small, kind of greenish- erm, with black hair?"

Jinx rolled her eyes. "Try brown, Victor. Robin has black hair."

"Well, anyway, Gar's a vegan, and goes around as Beast Boy." Victor knew he could trust Jinx, not that he was saying anything new. "Kori's Starfire- she's a very tall red-head who will go warrior-princess when provoked, just like the alien in the software your friend developed, with the Galfore main character- it's a pity that the gamers never picked up Knorf'ka. Richard's Robin, and he has black hair and . . ." He looked to Jinx for help.

"Blue eyes," she said with a smile. "I swear, Victor- you can tell me years later about some eighteenth stage sub-level and the secret entrance needed to get some special item, but you don't know that Richard has blue eyes."

Silas nodded, processing the sudden rush of information. Research had mostly prepared him for this, but he never could remember information for video games. "Who came up with the outfits?"

Victor shrugged. "We found the original ideas, but Catwoman made them. We met her in Batman's hideout."

Jinx gave Victor an accusing look, no charge. "You've met _Catwoman?" _The thief was a legend- completely self-sufficient, without ties to any underground overlord.

"Yes. She and Batman are pretty close, right now, and all the Titans are betting on when they'll give in. I think Rachel- she's Raven, and you know her, dad, from all the soccer matches- will win."

"Raven- the _Forston Daily_'s editor likes her. I've met Mr. Cooper before. He ran a science column in the _Press _before he was fired- the reasoning never was explained." Silas had not enjoyed the man's company, but he disliked all reporters, come to think of it.

"That's the guy Rachel's been writing to." Victor wasn't sure he liked the idea, but he had no room to talk. "She doesn't get much fan mail- and I know that she needs someone to confide in."

"It's her choice." Jinx knew that Miss Roth would not listen to opposition. "Your job is to beat the guy if he ever puts her down."

"I'm not worried about her most, right now- Richard is acting strange." Victor needed to talk about this with non-Titans, and Jinx knew enough to fill in any blanks.

"Strange?" Silas prompted.

"Red X strange." Victor couldn't believe that Richard would try that again. Richard knew that would be the quickest way to lose Kori. "I thought he learned- I know he learned. The signs are still the same."

"I think I could get an assignment to find Red X," Jinx said. "There was a theft earlier tonight- against Trigon. Someone stole weapons and left a Red X on the scene- Tia patched the report to me." She held up her hexagonal yellow communicator. "A new sighting puts him working for Trigon- he's a free agent."

Victor knew that he still needed to have a talk with Richard. For the moment, Richard was still the most likely suspect- and unless there were concrete answers, there weren't many options. The law didn't respect nuances- right or wrong, guilty or not guilty, bail or no bail, and only so many thefts could happen before someone started a criminal investigation.

**.Shades of Grey.**  
"Richard, I need to know where you were last night," Victor said quietly, far away from the others. No one else knew. He had talked to Oracle, even after Jinx had left, and he had managed to ask for another week's delay. After that, the police had to start looking for Red X.

"Out," Richard said.

"Red X hit two places. Unless you can give an alibi, you're the main suspect. Don't you get it?" Victor hadn't planned on explaining, but the facts were vital. "You have one week, man, and you're lucky to have that much. After that, the police will have to start investigating and opening the files on the first Red X."

"I'm not Red X this time." Richard knew his defense was ridiculous. "I can't tell you where I was, but I'm not the thief.

"I believe you, but you have to know that this looks suspicious. Besides friendship, besides the Titans, besides any of that- Kori trusts you, and that's good enough for me." Victor walked away before anyone noticed- and almost tripped over Rachel. She was leaning against the wall, putting the last touches on a letter.

"Nice save." Rachel had watched his wind-milling attempt to stay upright. Falling against the wall had been more effective. "If you'll excuse me, I have a letter to post."

"How much do you really know about this guy, Rachel?" Victor asked.

"He writes articles- good ones. Victor, this is none of your business. I'm a big girl, okay?" She stood, glaring up at him.

"Rachel- all I need to know is if he ever surprises you with something bad."

"You told Jinx about something personal," Rachel said slowly, ignoring his comment. "She doesn't know about Derek."

"When do you talk to Jinx?"

"Often enough," Rachel said evasively. "She told me about Red X. Her boss assigned her to look around for him, and the ex-HIVE members that follow her around are helping. The splintered HIVE kids have nominated her as the leader- Blood was taken off to see Trigon before the suicide attempts."

"Suicide attempts?" Victor asked, repeating her words dully.

"Yes. Special ops picked up Blood before the attacks even started. They brought him to Trigon, so Trigon could learn about the planned coupe. Then, Blood was made an example of. He should be dead by tonight, if he's lucky." Rachel's delivery was as nonchalant as ever. "It would really take something to surprise me, Victor. I'm not the kind of girl who needs a knight in shining armor- and Jinx would get jealous if you spent your time protecting me."

As expected, he was still speechless and trying to determine which of many questions he should ask. She continued. "Jinx, Oracle, and Drake are working to find X. I don't think it's Richard- the current targets take far more experience than his break, grab, and go jobs, and he hasn't had the practice."

Victor recovered, barely. "I'll talk to her. Maybe she should stay away from Trigon's headquarters for a while."

"She will. I would guess all but the grossest sycophants have evacuated by now. I do want to get this letter in by the 5:46 pickup, Victor. I'll talk to you again in a bit."

Gar found Victor a few minutes later. "You look like you just had a talk with Rachel."

"I did. She and Jinx chatted, somehow, and Rachel had all sorts of cheerful tales about a will-be murder. Sometimes, Gar- I just wonder. She never brings up her dad any more- he's probably busy rearranging spies to get Trigon."

"I asked her, today, about her dad." Gar shuddered. "That's when she started scaring me with talk about Blood and how the HIVE fell." He was done talking about Blood. No criminal deserved what Rachel so blithely described. "Your dad found out about Cyborg, I heard?" Gar hadn't heard details.

"I didn't tell him, exactly. I got dressed in the dark and ran out into the hallway- straight into my father. I barely stopped in time. He took it well- he thought I was on drugs or something. When I showed up later with Jinx, he fed us breakfast. At five in the morning." Victor remembered that part of his father. "He's going to talk to me more, now- he's like that. He'll forget for years, but when he remembers- it's all back at once. That's how he is with research."

"Wait- he met _Jinx _without a fuss?" Gar asked. "How much coffee was he missing?"

"He only drinks a cup. He's hard to surprise, that's all, and he's always been a night owl. He wears out assistants like no one else on earth."

"Is he okay, with your mom re-marrying?"

"He wasn't, for a while." Victor had only seen indirect signs. "They fought, before the accident- after it, they just gave up. I think he's looking forward to the wedding. He hasn't had a night out in a while- so he's going to his ex-wife's marriage. He and my mom are friends- she even left him spaces on the guest list."

"She's still renting teenagers?" Gar asked.

"She doesn't have anyone else to borrow. It's not like it's a hard job- free cake, free dinner, free dancing. All you have to do is stand there and smile- or not glower too much, in Rachel's case." Victor wasn't going to expect smiles.

"What's this about me?" Rachel asked, shedding a coat after coming in from a brief walk.

"We were talking about Miss Elinore- erm, something-or-other's wedding," Victor said. "It's weird- she's keeping Stone until the wedding, but her maiden name is on half the invitations and his last name on the others." He glanced across the room. "Richard and Kori are done talking- it's training time."

"He's stiff," Rachel observed. "He looks like he's been fighting already." Rachel remembered that limp. _No way. _"It's almost like-" Slade was dead. Trigon had yet to mention him.

"Almost like?" Gar prompted.

"No one," she said shortly. "It's just odd, that's all. I'm not bad, and Richard outfights me about every time. Someone fought him and won- Red X wasn't overpowered. There's your proof." Rachel frowned. "I almost wish that he was Red X again."

"Why?" Victor asked. "So we could beat the stuffing out of him until he repents?"

"No," Rachel said softly. "So we knew what he was doing."

Victor couldn't argue with her reasoning. It was better the devil you knew than the devil you didn't, after all- and Victor personally had no idea what the devil Richard was doing.


	38. Apprentice

_For Unimportant- trust me, I would never do that. No offense is taken- if I used such a "plot" idea, I'd have to stay away from writing for a week. For all confused people, here's a quick summation: Red X is not, and never will be, Richard's father. Richard's father is definitely dead, and I don't do resurrections- I only deal with people who never died in the first place. I'm trying to keep this believable, after all. Credit for research in this chapter is for dr.evil99, because all I know about guns is that when you pull the trigger, a bullet shoots out of the barrel. When dealing with weapons, it helps to know a little bit more._

**Chapter Thirty-eight: Apprentice**  
"Late night, sir?" Alfred gave no sign of disapproval as he set out a large breakfast. Someone had to get the story.

"Very much so," Richard said with a yawn. He left through the window out of habit, but always returned to find it securely bolted. After the first few dashes through the front door, Richard didn't bother to try the window. Following a resigned entreaty from the butler, he stopped his "attempts at espionage," as Alfred dryly said. The butler was a subtle presence, but made sure that life without him seemed impossible.

"You have slept for eleven straight hours since your return home. If you again require the first aid kit, please ask for help before wrenching about to bandage your back. Miss Anders has asked to be informed when you wake, and the rest of the Titans will arrive later."

"I can't tell anyone, Alfred."

"Why would you tell an old butler if your friends cannot know? I guess that your mother would not have given room for secrets, but that is why she left. Your father believed that he was protecting her, but she did not need to be shielded from life. She hated secrets- with a passion, of course. Your mother did everything with a passion, even crosswords before her morning coffee. She was an acrobat and tightrope dancer, and she loved an audience even when yawning. She left him when he told her of 'the dangers of the flying trapeze before he traipsed out among gunshots,' in her words. She was quite a woman."

"Was?" Richard asked at the first opportunity. Momentous conversations didn't mean he had to stop breakfast.

"No one found her again. Your father believed she would come back, but still sent people to look for her. She might be alive, under a different name, but she never has called. She stayed with your father for nine years, and then made her mind up in a day."

"This isn't something I want to do, Alfred." Richard silently cursed. He would almost rather not be able to make any explanation, instead of watching faces try to stay brave at obvious lies.

That brought a sharp look from the butler, but the disapproval was aimed elsewhere. "Is this an obligation bound to a past mistake?"

"That isn't the reason."

"Is it a manner of honor?"

"Yes."

That was all Alfred needed to hear. "Miss Anders will be here shortly, sir. If you can tell her that much, she may stop some of her worrying."

"Thanks, Alfred," Richard said.

"I merely perform my duties," the butler insisted, but Richard could tell he was pleased.

**.Point of No Return. **  
"You are alone, apprentice."

"No, you are," Richard said. It was useless, snapping, but it kept him almost sane. "You're supposed to be dead." He made a gamble, betting on Rachel's theories of how Trigon worked. "What did you tell Trigon so that he would save you from your last apprentice's rage? Blood is dead, Slade."

"I am far too useful to be dead. Blood knew that our alliance was temporary."

"You did sell him out to save yourself."

"Do you think to shame me? If Trigon had ever heard a whisper of the plan, I would have turned on Blood, just as he would have done for me. That is how the world works, apprentice, and if you cannot grasp this fact, you will remain weak. I still keep more power than Trigon's pet second in command, a fact that all will learn."

"Who?" Richard asked. Slade often talked about such matters; Richard couldn't tell anyone, with the ever-present link to Slade at his side.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Someday, I just might. For today, you have an assignment outside of direct supervision," Slade said. "You have two hours to reach the target, and you will remain in contact with me throughout the activity.

"I warn you, Robin. There is no turning back, and there will be no magical happy ending. From now on, you don't have a home with Bruce Wayne, vigilante extraordinaire. You work for me."

Richard said nothing. He should have known that even lying to his friends' faces was too much to hope for.

"If you join me, if you swear to serve me, if you never speak to your friends again, I will allow them to live. But... if you disobey, even the smallest request, I will annihilate them, Robin... and I will make you watch."

A few minutes passed, but there was only one response. "Where is this target?"

Slade knew what that choice meant. Such a noble lad, to put his friends' lives before his own. "It is an office building you should be able to find easily."

"Which one?" Richard knew, but he still hoped to be wrong.

"Wayne Enterprises."

**.Signal.**  
Oracle cursed when an alarm beeped plaintively. Cursing was a vulgar habit, but explaining frustrations in great detail to her computer networks did nothing. She had not been having a good night for data collection, and a few sources had recently brought up Slade. She hadn't heard so much as a peep for two and a half weeks, and then she had four reports. She ran through her many security cameras, wondering which piggyback on a streetlight was out this time. Seeing the name next to the camera, she didn't curse again. She called up background feed, fingers flying over the keys. No one had tried a break-in at Wayne Enterprises for years, and there had been no tampering warning.

The only image she could get was of a chest and shoulder. She made a quick estimate- it was probably a teenage male, but she wouldn't make that a certainty. She called up resolution on a whim, to see if she could get a build. Barbara's eyes snapped wide open when she saw the insignia. _Slade. _That costume wasn't his- the man had another apprentice. She punched in a quick succession of keys and then waited a tense minute.

"Oracle? The signal light is on."

"Bruce, go to your work," she said. Forget Batman- this was an attack against Bruce.

"What?"

"Slade has a new apprentice, and security at Wayne Enterprises caught a frame before the cameras were cut off. I need you there- I don't know if he's working with or in memory of Slade, but someone's there. I don't want to call the Titans in, Bruce- but they know more about apprentices."

Bruce knew the choice was impossible. "They'd never forgive us, Oracle. Victor took three Titans out this evening when Richard wouldn't come back home, and I can't cover all the exits of the building. I'll need backup, and the police can't be in on this until the situation is safer."

"Go on, Bruce, but get the gang you just apprehended into the station- there's no use in letting those crooks get away, when they're part of the sting Montoya is running over by the station. I'll get the Titans." Barbara rattled a new code into her links. "Titans, Oracle in. Head to Seventh and West Main. There is a robbery in progress that involves Slade's apprentice- Batman is en route."

"We're at Eighth and Main- I'll be there in a minute," Victor said. In the background, she heard the screech of a slightly illegal U-turn. "Do you have anything inside?"

"No. He cut the external power feed after taking out the minor cameras that only activate during trouble- it can't be an inside job from Bruce's company. His security staff doesn't know about most of my cameras- but their man on site must be unconscious at least. I can't reach him through audio, and I have no visuals inside." Oracle could see the Titans approaching from a nearby hydrant bug.

Victor was acting as leader, with Richard missing. Richard had called far earlier in the day to say that he might be late, but they hadn't believed that he would miss a patrol. Kori, Rachel, and Gar glanced up at the building, and then looked to Victor- they only needed one leader. "I'll go with Star. Raven and BB, split off. I've visited this place before- the elevators are out. We'll take the south stairwell, Raven- take the west. Stop at each floor, and don't move on until we meet in the central corridor- if you run into trouble, you have voice-activated radios. Use them."

"Oracle, are you linked in?" Rachel asked. "We could use blueprints for the building."

"I have a few tricks that the thief missed, and I'm sending the infra-red reading. I think the thief is male- he's in Bruce's office, fourth floor. The only way up is the roof, and you can corner him." Oracle sent plans to the communication screens. "Go on, before he knows you're here- Bruce will be on site within two minutes. There's no need to split this time- he's in one location."

The four Titans raced up the stairs as a group. By the time they came to the office, someone was already leaving, a compact silver object in hand. Rachel had seen only drawings of the prototype, and knew what it was before the rod extended into a six-foot Bo staff made of some sort of new polymer metal. She had her eyes on the weapon in the dim light, but the dark hall's flood lighting flickered quickly into life when Oracle found the controls. If Rachel hadn't looped her communicator around her belt, it would have fallen to the floor.

Kori was the first to react. Her eyes narrowed, and she stood tall in an offensive ready. "Let's go, Titans." She took the position of field leader without opposition, and the four ran forward.

Richard knew what to do even without Slade's voice in his ears. He twirled the staff in a lazy arc. Victor fell after a quick set of blows to pressure points, and Gar tripped in the resulting sprawl. Rachel leaped clear, but that left her midair for a smackfrom the staff. Kori was only two feet away when he spun, adjusting his grip even as he struck. Kori fell, completely winded, and Richard knew that a bruise would be spreading below her rib cage tomorrow. Blows to the diaphragm often did that.

Richard took off at a run. The Titans were blocking the stairs on that side, and he knew to not trust the elevators. By the time he reached the stairs on the other side, Barbara had activated a few special features that were against normal regulations. That flight was closed. Richard knew there was only one place to go. He burst through a side office, opening the window and reaching for the ladder. The fire escape had a platform below the window, and was solid enough that he could stand still to close the window. This was, naturally, the old fire escape- Bruce actually kept up with code, and had a new wider one on the other side of the building. He ran up the stairs, and hoped against reason that he had hit the Titans with a little more than convenient taps.

They were waiting for him on the roof, a direct consequence of an overly easy fight. Richard ignored Slade's voice in his ear after getting the basic message. He would have to hit them harder, if he wanted to save them. "I will beat you- if you give up, this will be easier." Richard couldn't bring quite enough arrogance into his voice to make the words convincing, but the Titans weren't paying too much attention to his tone.

"We wouldn't give up on you- or a fight. Drop the staff, drop the mask- and we can still go back," Victor said. "This is your last chance, Richard."

"I thought we already were done with last chances," Richard parroted. Slade was apparently taking control of dialogue, and Richard couldn't afford any slipups.

"Obviously, we're wasting our breath." Rachel's voice was perfectly controlled. Seeing that the others were pausing, she stepped forward. "Fight me, whatever you want to be called. I think traitor is an apt description."

"You can't fight me normally. Right now, I have a six foot staff, and you're unarmed. You've had too many classes for this," Richard said. "And what would your father say?" he added after a prompt from Slade.

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "He won't have to say a word." Before she could stand even at ready, the staff flashed in a move she had never seen demonstrated. She was unconscious before she could hit the ground.

"Richard-" Before Gar's protest was done, Richard used that move twice more. Victor and Gar would not be pleased, but it did keep injuries to a minimum. His intention was to use the cheap knock-out shotfour times, but Kori had grabbed the staff while it was in midair. That was supposed to be impossible.

She wrenched it away from him and retracted it with a click. She would not give him the chance to get it back. Instead, she hung it beside her communicator. He was ready for a fight, and tensed with his fists up. She mirrored the position, waiting for him to make the first move. She always had been better at reacting in a fight.

He lowered his hands. "I can't," he said, quietly enough that Kori couldn't hear. Slade's response was immediate. _Robin. _

"I cannot," Kori said, loud enough for both of them. She knew what she was doing, and she left her communicator on. Perhaps she was making the wrong choice, but she would not hide it in a lie. Everyone would know what she had said to him. Kori took a deep breath. She had to talk to him, one last time.

"Richard, you are-" _Attack,_ Slade's voice said as she spoke- "my best friend, and I cannot live in a world where we must-" _Attack now, or I will- _"fight. If you are truly-" _carry out- _"evil, then do-" _my promise- _"as you must."

She rolled the staff towards him. No matter what brave words she said- she couldn't, no matter who he was working for. Kori finally knew what she was doing, and she would explain if she had to later. "Go. This is goodbye, Richard."

"What good is there in it?" Richard ignored demands to fight her. He couldn't hurt Kori, even to save her.

_Was that- _Kori thought she saw a flicker of some rogue emotion in her eyes. "Go." She pointed at the fire escape, and didn't look away until he was out of sight. Letting him go was the hardest thing she could remember doing. By the time Batman arrived on the roof, he already had heard from Oracle that the culprit had escaped- and found Kori sitting on the roof coaxing her friends into waking up.

"Kori?" he asked, unsure of what to say to her. She looked composed, which could be a dangerous sign.

She didn't look away from her friends. "He's gone, Bruce." She rarely was so familiar, but this wasn't a time for formalities. "I don't think he'll be back."

Bruce had only been able to fill in the blanks from words caught in the communicator's speakers. "You let him go." Bruce knew that he wouldn't have been able to act any other way.

Kori looked up, and he could see the tears that still threatened to fall. "I had to, Bruce. There was no other way."

He took a seat next to her, taking a pulse on each unconscious Titan. They would recover. "Sometimes choices are too easy, Kori- and you're the most loyal friend that anyone could ever hope for." Bruce wasn't quite ready, when she hugged him- but she needed the comfort. When the police ran up the stairs to the roof, they found the Dark Knight consoling a weeping heroine as three Titans began to wake

**.Finale.**  
Rachel had said approximately six words to the Titans in the past four days. She had sat at the main table with her laptop, and no one had looked at the screen. She was doing something sensitive, from the many security links she patiently bypassed. The extra work she was doing pleased her father, the only disadvantage. By the time she made her announcement, the Titans were ready for action. "I think I've found the source. Slade owns an empty warehouse over in the HIVE's part of town. Barbara checked electricity records for me. It's alive."

"Where is it?" Victor asked. They had all been waiting for an excuse to patrol, but no one had felt up to a real fight. Rachel had been almost breathing binary, Gar was wandering around lost, Victor couldn't figure out what he should feel, and Kori wasdifferent. Kori accepted Richard's choice the best, but she hadn't smiled since before the Titans started towards Wayne Enterprises. Watching Kori start to close herself off was affecting everyone, and even Alfred couldn't feign disinterest.

"West, on Graham Boulevard." Rachel had not changed her expression in days, even the subtle shifts a friend could watch. "Kori, if Richard's there- we might have to fight him."

"I know." Kori was without smiles, but she was steady. "His ears hear Slade. While- while I talked to him, I could almost hear a second voice."

"Why is he alive?" Gar asked. "Tara brought the building down on him," he said. After all the emotion of the week, not even her name could make him choke.

"He's a cockroach," Rachel said. "Those things don't die- chop off its head, and it'll die of thirst three weeks later. I have heard nothing, but we can be sure even the equivalent of nuclear fallout wouldn't take him down."

The Titans were in the car and close to the location before a comment besides Rachel's list of directions was said. "Is this a good place to park?" Victor asked.

Rachel nodded. "The warehouse has a side entrance, but it's hard to see. This place used to be a factory- from records, most equipment is gone. The inside is going to be hard to predict. Be ready to fight- and if we need to run, we all should know how to get from the exit to the car."

Kori led them, at the door. She was the quietest, and scouted the layout in less than a minute. "They're both inside. Except for a few rows of shelving, the room is empty. It's dark inside."

"Let's go, Titans." Victor ignored regrets. They had a job to do, and Slade and his new apprentice were a danger to Forston. Barbara had not encouraged the mission, but knew that forbidding it only meant she wouldn't have any warning of when the Titans might need help. She had been a teenage crime-fighter, after all.

Victor stayed in back while they made their way inside. He was slower than the other three, and was ready to pull them away from danger. Caught off guard, his friends would be safe before they could protest too much.

"Go, apprentice. Fight."

Rachel knew that voice. She felt her way back to the door. If Slade was there, they would need to level the odds. Rachel flicked on the lights.

Slade glanced at them through his mask. His apprentice didn't fare as well with the sudden light. "You can fight them with your eyes closed," Slade said scornfully. Coerced apprentices were not fond of their work, but he had been making limited progress.

"I won't find them." Richard still couldn't see, but cracked his eyes against the light to try to force a quick adaptation. If he told them here, and had to make a choice- they would know, and have a real chance of fighting Slade. He couldn't protect them if Slade wanted to issue another sort of ultimatum.

"We will fight you." Kori did not contest Victor's statement, but she only hesitantly stood at a fighter's ready.

Slade waited until the Titans were away from the door before he spoke again. "My apprentice seems unwilling to fight- it really is a pity. I'll just leave him with a symphony for the ears, if orders aren't what he wishes to hear."

Rachel reacted instantly. "Don't," she said, drawing curious looks from her friends. Even Richard looked puzzled- but Rachel wouldn't wish what Slade would term a symphony on anyone. She had never been unfortunate enough to hear it, but knew what it could do.

Slade's only response was to activate a new command to Richard's headset. He had hoped that his apprentice would forget nobility, but perhaps it was better to have the excuse. If his apprentice had not disobeyed them in that rooftop scene, Slade would not have allowed electricity records to lead the Titans to him- and Slade would not be prepared. Slade watched as Richard fell. The frequencies being blasted into his ear canal would incapacitate an elephant.

Kori knew. Richard's betrayal had not been a choice, though she couldn't imagine what the other alternative must have been. She trusted him- after all this, she still did. Kori was running towards him before she could have time for rational thought. Kori stopped when yells from her friends and a winking silver gun barrel collided in her mind. She froze, seeing the fifty-foot distant gun with perfect clarity, and barely noticed Rachel running up behind her.

"Don't move or I'll shoot her," Slade snapped when Victor and Gar tried to follow.

Richard knew that something was wrong, even as his brain felt waves of bright colors. _Kori's in trouble._ He heard the words "shoot her," and Slade knew who he cared about most. Richard found the part of his brain that should control his arm. In one motion, he ripped the earpiece out with an arm his brain didn't quite know how to work, drew in a quick breath, and leapt into a clumsy tackle.

This was past threats. Richard seized the staff from his belt. He extended the staff without looking back. He could do nothing for Kori, for his friends, if Slade wasn't taken out. He tore the mask from his face and threw it to the ground as he whirled the staff into an attacking position. Richard was ready to fight. With the first part of his opening move, he slid Slade's dropped gun across the floor towards the others. They could take care of the gun. He would take care of Slade- and nothing was going to stop him.

Once fighting, Richard let himself hear what had happened as he tackled Slade. He had gotten the fired gun away from Slade, even if it was two seconds too late, and he had a battle to win. He would do it for Kori, for the Titans- and for a little personal revenge. No matter how much he wanted to turn and look, this was not thetime. He could do nothing to help. Slade was going to pay.Richard had heard a single shot, Kori's scream- and then the sound of someone making a rough landing on the concrete floor.


	39. Apprentice: Part Two

_Yes, the last chapter did end in a cliff-hanger. Consider that the author's hint that you, as a reader, shouldn't be too complacent in your knowledge in what is going on. There will be some violence in this chapter, including description of a gunshot wound, but nothing is graphic. Thanks for reviewing- and if you're mad, don't be. It certainly increased the tension. Don't complain that I lied to you- just re-read the last paragraph of chapter thirty-eight. Complaints on this matter will be disregarded._

**Chapter Thirty-nine: Apprentice Part Two  
**Kori had screamed, but that had been all. She hadn't been able to come up with a more suitable reaction as Rachel looked surprised for a split second before falling. Kori had thought that the bullet was meant for her, but she never had claimed to be an expert in the trajectory of bullets. Rachel was breathing almost normally as Kori watched, frozen even seconds later. Rachel's blood was pooling on the concrete.

Rachel looked around by tilting her head back. Her breathing was a little too quick, and she still felt that she needed more air. "Gar?" she said between a few longer gasps. Being shot was not how she had envisioned spending her Thursday evening.

He raced forward, forcing back anger directed at himself and Slade. He dropped to the ground beside her. "Rachel. Rae, are you okay?"

"Ra-chel," she grumbled weakly. "The bullet just left a surface wound- it just needs to stop bleeding." Her breathing still was a little forced, but she had been through classes on forgetting pain.

Kori tried to watch as Victor and Gar kept Rachel talking while damage was assessed, but her eyes were drawn to Richard. The fight was loud and brash and violent- she could only hope for Richard. In a staff fight, an unarmed ally was a hindrance.

Rachel was grumpy. She did not need two teammates hovering. "I'm not going to pass out, and I don't like babbling. The bullet is probably behind where I was standing- all it did was touch my side, just above the hip. I know that the gunshot didn't hit anything vital."

"Don't say it doesn't hurt," Victor chided.

"I didn't. Of course it hurts- the bastard shot me." Rachel shifted, glancing at her cloak. "Would someone tear off a chunk of the cloak? It'll do for padding."

Kori ripped it, after Gar and Victor eased the cloak from beneath Rachel. Kori's eyes stayed on the fight, but she kept glancing back.

"Kori," Rachel said after directing Gar in how to fold the cloth, "watch Richard. I solemnly swear that I won't die, and Richard needs someone to watch for him." Rachel gave a weak nod when Kori beamed- she definitely would have to look into not getting shot again.

"What do I do with this?" Gar asked, uneasily brandishing the wad of cloak. He had an idea what Rachel meant.

"Apply pressure," Raven said wearily. "If Richard doesn't win, we might need backup. I won't be able to help if I'm still oozing blood."

"Won't that hurt?" Victor asked.

"Yes, but I'd rather not lose any more blood. Gar, you're right there. Could we get on with this before I need a hospital stay?" Rachel braced herself subtly, but still winced at the pressure. "Don't pull away or we'll have to repeat the process," she said, forcing the words. She had taken too many classes to lose composure in the situation, and he was doing enough worrying for the both of them. Someone had to panic, and he was taking care of that.

Victor took her Rachel's hand, guessing that she would need to direct a little of the pain. "Do you want to hear about the fight?" He watched her grip until the tendons on the back of her hand stood out.

"I can see most of the staff-work," Rachel exaggerated. Really, she could see a few very quick flashes of metal. "Gar, are you okay?" He looked pale.

"I'm fine," he said shortly.

"No, you're not," she retorted. "You're completely pale- this will be over soon. Stop staring at the wound, will you? My blood isn't that interesting. Watch the fight and tell me about it- I'm sure that Richard's doing a few fancy new tricks. That means that it'll be even worse when I spar against him in the next practice- I want advance warning." Really, she would rather just focus on breathing, but maybe this was better. Convincing other people to calm down was supposed to help with all nerves involved.

"I don't know all the terms for this." Gar watched the fight and gave clumsy descriptions of fluid motions. "Richard just planted the stick's end on the ground and used it to spin around to kick- except that he did that in half a second, and since then he's been doing something that looks like fencing with a really long stick- and he just did a back flip, I think, and- whoa!" Gar knew that Rachel had heard the loud snap. "Richard just hit Slade in the mask- someone's going to have a bruise tomorrow. There's a crack running all the way down."

Rachel listened, trying to picture what happened in the gaps in narration. She was still counting breaths when Gar stopped talking about the fight. "I don't think you're bleeding any more, Rae."

"That's probably a good sign," Rachel said, relaxing when part of the pain dwindled. "There is aspirin or something in your glove compartment, Victor?"

"I'll get some for you-"

"When we get to the car, Victor- we can't leave Richard, even if Kori will cause damage on her own." Rachel took a pause for a final deep breath before trying something drastic. "Help me up, would you? The bullet hit above the hip, and the ground isn't very comfortable."

Victor helped her up. Gar made himself scarce for a minute, using the time to find the bullet. As much as he wanted to help, Victor was better at the strength bit of physical motion, and Rachel didn't need an audience. By the time he meandered back, after taking the time to give Oracle a few fast updates, Rachel was unsteadily trying to balance on her own two feet.

Gar slipped beside her, offering a shoulder. "I'm the right height- being short had to be good for something."

"I'm going to bleed on you."

He moved her arm into place. "I'll live- and you better." He watched the fight while she found her balance.

"And what are you going to do if I don't?"

"I'll- I don't know, but it'll be something drastic," Gar said.

Rachel shook her head. She kept her eyes on the fight, guessing that it would be over soon. Both Slade and Richard were tiring, and Kori was inching closer to the six foot reach of the fight. Rachel grimaced when the final crack rang out, even if it did mean that Slade was done fighting- the mask was broken.

Kori was next to Richard in an instant, with an arm wrapped around his waist. Victor kept his eye on Slade. "I think he's out- I'll call the police."

"No," Rachel said, catching her balance at last. "I promise that I'll explain, someday, but I'll speak with Slade."

"Rachel-"

"Trust me, Gar. I can walk out alone. Once I'm out that door, you can carry me to the car, if you want." Rachel took her arm from around his shoulder.

"If you're not out in two minutes, I'm coming in to get you," he promised.

"I'll be out of here." She waited until the Titans were gone before she addressed Slade. He was only faking, she knew, but that was a viable strategy. Robin had learned too much. "You missed, Slade," she said with a slow glance at her wound.

"Next time, I just will have to make sure wayward apprentices don't affect my aim."

"Slade, you are not Trigon's lieutenant. You tried to kill me- and I believe you know the consequences for the attempted slaying of a higher-level agent. Trigon still names me successor."

Slade stood, slowly. "You would not." He had witnessed the many times she had withdrawn to her room in a cacophony of wordless music from centuries past. Rachel was scared of her father- but anyone with sense would be wary.

Rachel straightened her shoulders, remembering all of the classes, all of the lessons, all of the threats. She had nothing else- she was fighting fire with fire. "I will, Slade. Trigon will hear of your plots." Rachel stalked away without fear. If Slade had a second gun, he would have used it during the fight with Richard- there had been enough pauses. Rachel kept walking for four feet past the outside door, which is more than she had hoped for.

Gar caught her, when she crumpled. "You're thirty-two seconds early," he said, guiding her arms so that he could help her stay upright. "You have the front seat- aspirin awaits you."

"Good. I'll need a few, if Barbara wants a good explanation. Slade will not pull an apprentice stunt again- and he will definitely think before shooting me." Rachel said nothing in the car. Instead, she listened while Richard shared his story in all the details he had thought out. She only said a quick 'thanks' when Gar helped her out of the car and up the police station's wheelchair ramp.

"Where is Slade?"

Rachel had expected Barbara's question, but did wish that the Titans had made it through the front doors. "I- I think you should know something," she said, working through a hesitation. "This is something only you need to hear."

Barbara decided to go along with the idea. Rachel had always been a good source, however unexplained her abilities in finding clandestine information were. "Will this be before or after I get a medic through here for the gunshot wound BB reported? I don't deal with bullets, and our healer wouldn't tell even if he knew what happened. Robin, I'll handle paperwork and stop by tomorrow for details." He was wearing street-clothes with a Robin mask, and Kori wasn't moving more than six inches away from him. If the Titans accepted his reasoning, so would she.

"I can hold out for a minute," Rachel said. She wanted to get this over with, before she lost her nerve.

"Where would you like to talk?" Barbara asked.

"Anywhere soundproof." Rachel didn't allow herself a tone. If she hadn't been a part of this team, Richard would have been safe. Rachel agreed to an interview room.

"Rachel, do you want someone to wait for you out here?" Gar asked.

"I could come back, but we'd rather not leave a Titan behind." Victor left her the choice. She never took well to orders, even friendly ones.

"I won't be long." Her doubts were catching up with her. "I don't have very much to say." Just to keep her friends from fussing, she let Gar help her into a small room with one chair.

"There aren't any mirrors in here, one-way or otherwise," Barbara promised. "This room is just for Oracle business, hence the labels on the door. Everyone else thinks that this houses a few top-secret detainment reports, so it's called the janitor's closet. Only Oracle is handling this- no one else needs to know, Rachel, and I doubt that you could really shock me."

Rachel nodded. They both wouldn't rue skipping small talk. "Jinx wouldn't tell you about Trigon's new second-in-command. Jinx knows, but she's loyal." Rachel tried to find a delicate phrasing for this. "After Slade's mutiny, made open when he tried to destroy the Titans, Trigon pushed for a little nepotism."

"You would have told the Titans this much," Oracle said gently after a long pause.

"Besides his wife, who rarely is aware enough to remember her name, he has only one relation- his child. That's your girl."

"Rachel?"

Barbara moved forward, but Rachel held up a hand quickly. If she was too nice, Rachel would never be able to say it. "That's me."

Oracle heard everything that happened, sooner or later. She let two full minutes pass, digesting the information. "Miss Jinx now has my full trust. Rachel, knowing you, I can guess that you're not interested in leading the organization."

"I don't want it. Until my eighteenth birthday, I only have small work. I hired Jinx- I needed an assistant who would let me get away. If there is no alternative, I will run. I'll get a makeover, change my wardrobe, find a home somewhere else- whatever it takes," Rachel said.

"I can help you, if it ever comes to that. A friend in Witness Protection owes me, and he can get you a new name, off the record. In the package, we can get a death certificate for Rachel Roth and a social security number for whoever you want to become."

Rachel didn't know what to say. Oracle was making logical suggestions, and didn't sound at all intimidated. "Do you think someone could patch me up, before I leave?"

"I'll call him. I just want to know one thing- what will happen to Slade?"

"Slade threatened the Titans to force Richard to work for him. In the beginning of the tonight's conflict, Slade pulled a gun. I'm lucky Richard tackled him- I wouldn't have been able to dodge. After the fight, I knew that the correctional justice system would have less of an impact than my father. Slade would break out, and you would lose cops."

Oracle understood. "You pulled rank on him."

Rachel nodded grimly. "My father might lay off of heavy gang activity for a week or so. The Titans are safe, and Trigon has a target for the rage he builds up."

Barbara knew that Rachel wasn't out of secrets, but that was enough. "If you need help, or even just to talk, call me. Be careful, Rachel- it's hard to let go of power."

"So says Oracle, who orders about police and heroes alike- it's harder to leave friends, Barbara. They're my family, in all ways that count." Rachel left before the sentiment really settled. She suffered the medic, but had to admit his bandaging wasn't bad. With the way her side felt, she wouldn't be able to even reach that level of wrapping. She walked herself out to the car, using hand-rails, and said nothing about her conversation with Barbara. Victor dropped her off at the standard corner.

"Gar, you're quiet." Victor had listened to minutes of silence, broken only by good-nights while Richard walked Kori to her door, and then by a few snide comments when Richard looked quite a bit more cheerful. Gar hadn't taken a single shot.

"When she fell, I saw red."

"Everyone was mad, Gar," Victor said, trying to understand why Gar was so serious about this.

"No- it was like before, Victor, when I lost control. It was all that primal stuff,all over again.I swear she knew- she called my name, and I was back again."

"You like her, don't you?" Victor wondered if he would hear the truth, this time.

"Yes, but the last relationship didn't exactly end well."

"It didn't start well, either. Half the time, you were looking at Rachel. Don't judge everything by the first relationship, Gar."

"I think I've already ruined my shot with Rachel. I couldn't figure out what she was going through, and she said that I was her closest friend." Gar wasn't sure if he should mention the last part, but it was too late now.

"That's because you are. I'm the childhood friend, Gar- you're the person she's going to open up to, someday." Victor knew that Rachel would come around eventually.

"You won't tell her, will you?"

"I won't- but you won't hear anything from me about how she feels about you," Victor said, ignoring a few weak protests. Rachel and Gar had created a mess of puzzled signals, and they would have to figure it out on their own. Interfering with relationships never helped, even if everyone else in the area could smell the pheromones.

**.Reconciliation.**  
Richard left his house very early, Friday morning. He had planned to skip breakfast and make a silent escape, but none left Alfred's domain without eating a proper meal. The butler stood in the middle of the hallway, a spatula in hand. "Will you be eating, sir?"

Richard recognized that tone. He wouldn't be leaving the house without having some form of breakfast. "Yes. I don't suppose you'll let me do otherwise."

"What ever would give you that impression?" Alfred already had a place setting waiting for Richard. Two firm servings of eggs were joined by two sausages and a muffin- all in the English style, of course. The large meal was a sign that the butler demanded a prolonged chat- all politely, of course.

"Kori trusted me- even after I took out three people," Richard final said after a few minutes of silence. Alfred wanted to hear something, and wasn't going to be helping.

"Miss Anders trusted you even yesterday. She arrived early, hours before the Titans planned to meet. She knocked, as she always does- even Garfield now will walk in and then call out a greeting, and he is always careful to not overuse his welcome. Miss Anders talked to me- for lack of a better audience, I suppose."

"What did she say?" Richard knew that he wouldn't finish breakfast. For once, maybe it wouldn't matter- Alfred looked far more interested in a chat.

"She might have agreed to fight you, last night, but Miss Anders never would have landed a hit. I believe that you both know this, but you probably won't bring too much depth to the past, and she would never hurt you by doing this. If the two of you talk about this, I do believe that no truly bad emotions will surface," Alfred said, calmly folding a napkin.

Richard only watched as another napkin was set on the table. Another place setting evolved with precision. Richard asked before the two forks were in place- one for sausage, used with a knife, and one for eggs. Alfred never ate, during one of his talks. "Is Bruce going to be up early?"

"He is at Miss Kyle's home, and probably will be until midday. Miss Anders was not sleeping well, and I judged by how much pacing you did around two hours past midnight." Alfred was expecting the front bell to ring- any knocks loud enough to be heard through a very thick front door were thunderous. "Miss Anders, as I have mentioned, always observes the protocol counted as proper. I do believe that she feels most comfortable when she knows which actions to take."

Kori knew that she should be used to such things by now, but the sight of a fully alert butler at four in the morning still was surprising. "Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Pennyworth."

"It was my pleasure, Miss Anders," Alfred said with a short bow. She felt more comfortable with the formalities, and he would oblige her. "Breakfast waits in the dining room."

Kori nodded a shy thank-you and stepped into the room, uncomfortably aware that she was dressed for school and in a dining room that probably wouldn't be out of place in the nineteenth century. "Richard?" Alfred had not warned her, and Kori was still uncertain about talking to her teammate.

"I was going to pace about your house restlessly until you woke up, but Alfred was slightly more organized. As usual, really, but I'm used to him being about four steps ahead." Richard didn't bother trying to talk quietly. "He'll be around, naturally."

"Perhaps we could discuss something else until he left us to a private conversation, then," Kori said brightly, not masking her voice by lowering the volume. "For instance, I am sure that Mr. Pennyworth would truly enjoy hearing about the latest articles in my sister's popular magazines. One was about the various types of blusher, and which types and brands flatter one's face. Another discussed various ways to look good while taking standardized tests. The third article-"

Richard didn't know what she was getting at until he heard the side door close. Alfred had- left? "Kori, how did you do that?"

She smiled, deciding that playing coy could come another time. "I know that, as much as he wants to hear, we need a little time to ourselves."

Kori sounded and looked cheerful- but she only toyed with herhair like thatwhen something was troubling you. "Kori, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, too quickly. "I am most glad that you are unharmed, and that Rachel only received a minor wound. There is no occasion for sadness."

"If you don't want to tell me, I understand. I wanted to tell you- but I wanted to keep you safe." Richard had practiced a similar speech, but the words came out rushed.

"It's not about you, Richard. You acted with honorable intentions."

"The best of intentions can lead to nowhere. Kori, what is it?" He stood, guessing that he might need to move closer. She set her mouth in an unsteady line, even after he put a hesitant hand on her shoulder. "Kori-"

"I should have trusted you, Richard." She turned before taking a resolute step away. She couldn't look at him, not now. "I didn't believe that you were doing good things. I gave up far too easily. I'm sorry."

Richard paused for a second, but that was only to try understanding how she could think that. "Never say that. You trusted me for no good reason at all, even when everyone else couldn't. You don't need to be sorry, Kori."

She crossed her arms tightly, holding herself away from him. "I thought that you had gone to Slade, and he is your opposite."

"Actually, we share a few traits," he said, trying to startle her. He only partially succeeded- when startled, she didn't turn around. "We're both determined, serious- but there's one important difference." She didn't say anything. "He doesn't have any friends, and he certainly didn't know anyone like you." He reached out a second time, but she had already turned. They didn't need any more words, and their silent embrace lasted until it was time to leave for school. It was time for everything to be back to normal.


	40. The Horse That Threw You

_A reference to a popular play is made, but the rights to it are common-law. The title of this chapter refers to a popular saying- but I'm not completely sure that it's popular everywhere, and some British, Canadian, and Australianpeople have fully confused this American author with sayings that they claim everyone knows. You get back on the horse that threw you- otherwise, you won't try riding again for a long time._

**Chapter Forty: The Horse That Threw You  
**"Richard, we need to talk."

"Um, okay, Rachel." Richard had not been looking forward to this conversation. "About what?"

"You're uncomfortable with this situation. So am I. Do you mind if I skip answering questions you're only asking as stall tactics? Small talk can also be completely passed over." Rachel was blunt, but the approach would work, or she would know why.

"We can skip that stuff." Richard knew this would come. He had avoided her for all of Friday, but she had cheated. She had walked into the training room early that Saturday morning, giving him no way to escape.

"I don't blame you."

"It's nice to hear that."

"Don't be trite, Richard. Slade was aiming at Kori, originally, but he switched his aim to me as you were jumping. You knocking his arm down, and a little to the side. You probably saved my life- I know you saved me a hospital stay." Rachel knew that Richard wouldn't make a fuss.

"You're not on self-confidence patrol?" he asked, just to be sure.

"Am I ever on self-confidence patrol? Kori can take care of that much- she knows the story, because she took the time to listen."

"You know that someone's tailing you for a few patrols, with that wound." Richard liked having these sorts of conversations with Rachel- all business, without drama. Kori would handle anything emotional- but that was different.

"I guessed as much. I think everyone needs a break for tonight, though. During one of Trigon's moods, there won't be much crime. Slade didn't report what he was doing to higher authority, and that means we have a furious gang-leader not in the mood for assigning jobs." Rachel was sure.

"Someday, you'll have to explain why you know all this. For tonight, I hope you'll join the crusade against the soppy movie."

Rachel shuddered. "I've seen enough angsty romance on this team without paying to see more. Victor can find what's at the theatre- he has the website already."

The choices were limited. The only movies not rated R (Gar was still sixteen, much to his chagrin, and didn't make the minimum age of seventeen years) or G (those two were dismissed as possibilities were not mentioned) were a formulaic romantic comedy that even Kori voted down, a slasher comedy/horror movie that Rachel rejected because it had no plot, and the adapted real-life story of a girl in organized crime. The guys accepted the movie after seeing the trailer, silhouetting the female lead against several explosions.

Rachel claimed the front seat in the car while the guys still were making sure that there was a showing. She had read through reviews in the _Press, _and any movie that could bring even a bored tenure writer to praise was something worthy of watching. They all bought tickets without incident, but then there was a concessions dilemma. Raven passed on theatre food and went to save seats. She could hold five extra seats- Victor requested an extra.

The others had guessed she would filch popcorn when the lights dimmed, but she kept her attention on the screen and watched credits with a bemused look. "You look like you've never seen a commercial before," Gar said quietly. The movie was nowhere near starting, if the previews were still many advertisements away, but it was common courtesy.

"I don't want television. I'm trying to guess why people would buy a soft drink after watching a car chase."

"Commercials don't need to make sense," Gar explained. "They just need to attract attention."

"So, they're kind of like you."

"Yes, a little- except that I don't come with a mute option." Gar peered around Kori and Richard. "I think Victor did have a reason for his extra seat."

Rachel saw a pink-haired girl kiss him on the cheek. "Someone might as well enjoy it. I guess that's why he made a phone call before we left." She watched the screen as the commercials drew to an end. "I think previews exist to make the audience grateful for a movie."

"They might," Gar said, distracted by a movie trailer.

Rachel might have been a little hurt by the sudden end to the conversation, but the trailer contained enough explosives that the images lit the theatre again in fiery shades of orange and yellow. This led into the feature presentation, and Rachel found herself interested, for once. The names weren't important, but she followed faces. Rachel couldn't tear her eyes away from the wife to the gang's leader, a vivacious woman who kept her husband's business in line. Rachel didn't laugh at the threats delivered by the pretty woman married to a mobster. This movie was based on a true story- in Rachel's experience, real life didn't turn out well.

Rachel should have known. Gangs were fine, when the runner-up in leadership wore shirts with a neckline that didn't touch any neck at all. Hollywood mothers never gave up. By the time the heroine Rachel kept nameless was seducing or being seduced by the hero- no one knew for sure which way the attraction happened- Rachel felt that she was going to be sick. This would not end well. She was ready for the gun battle, and didn't flinch when the villainous heroine pulled a weapon.

She started shivering when the mother aimed an assault rifle at the daughter. Gar noticed after a minute- he hadn't been touching her, and only a few bright scenes provided enough light to see by. She had looked queasy, earlier. "Rachel," he said quietly. When she stared straight ahead without even narrowing her eyes, he touched her arm.

She didn't respond. Instead, she watched the crime lord's heiress choose the life of crime. Rachel's small shudders stopped when the blood started filling the screen after gunshots. The heroine hadn't shot the guy- but her mother had.

Gar stood. There was another forty minutes to the movie, but that was nothing. She needed to get out of there now. "Stand up, Rachel." He took her hand and applied just a little force to lift her from her seat. When she absently complied, he was even more nervous. "You're by the aisle. We just need to go down these stairs, make a quick turn, and get out of here."

"Out?" she asked, mind miles away.

"Into the lobby," he said. He could panic later. Before he could do that, he sat her on a bench and made a phone call. "Barbara, Rachel's having a problem, and I don't think she really wants me to ask what's bothering her when she's like this. We were watching a movie, and she's not herself at all- we're in the lobby of the Silverscreen Cinema."

"Was it a movie about a gang?" Barbara asked. Tim had mentioned something.

"Yes."

"I'll be- never mind, it'd take too long for me to get out there. Selina is right in the area- she'll take care of Rachel. You're in the small lobby, right?" Barbara barely listened for confirmation as she rattled off information to another listener. "You can go back to the movie, if you want- Selina's in the parking lot."

"I'll wait for her." Gar wouldn't be able to explain, if he returned to the movie, and he wasn't interested in how that drama ended. He was about to start pacing when Selina rushed into the theatre, straight past the box offices. She dismissed a nervous security guard still speckled with pimples with an impatient wave, and the boy stopped trailing her when Bruce explained a few vague details.

"Rachel, we're just going to talk for a little." Selina shooed Gar from the small waiting room that the nervous security worked had guided Gar to. Customers having some sort of breakdown were escorted to the private waiting area. Selina knew it was no one's fault, but she wished the Titans had chosen a comedy.

"Rachel- everyone knows you won't turn your back on the team." Selina wasn't the best at emotional scenes, but she was direct.

"I don't like guns."

"Not many people do, and you have good reason. I know you've seen too many guns, Rachel, and that the movie showed a few things you didn't want to see. It's natural, to fear that your connections could hurt your friends."

"I am not afraid," Rachel said, furious with herself for losing control. It was only a movie.

"I fear many things- especially flubbing talks like this. Fear doesn't make you weak, Rachel."

"It won't make you strong."

"Getting past fears will make you strong. Just think about that- you can't ignore valid concerns. If anyone asks about this, I'll give an excuse that a girl can use in bad times. That'll get Bruce and three Titans off your tail."

"I can't lie to Kori, even to help her. I'd rather just tell a partial truth." Rachel knew how Kori felt about dishonesty. "I hate gunshots."

"Do you?"

Rachel closed her eyes. A chorus of gunshots blasted through her memories. "Yes."

"Then stop them, Rachel- you could do great things."

"I won't be able to, Selina- I couldn't do it. I'm not- that. As soon as I'm supposed to take over as partner- I'll be gone."

"It wasn't fair of me to say that, Rachel. I ran, the last time there was too much trouble." Selina knew she had gone a little too far. "Your friends won't let you make a clean break," she warned.

"I'll make it an amputation." Rachel wanted to pace, but the room was too small. It barely would seat four people rich enough to deserve a private place to wait. "They will not be hurt because of me."

"You will hurt them if you leave. It's a tough situation, Rachel. If they knew-"

"They're better off alive to hate me, and they'd know how dangerous I am to them once they heard the truth. That's another fear- I can't lose my friends, Selina." Why hadn't she just stayed aloof and friendless for just one more year? She could have run with no ties to bring her back.

"Be afraid- and then get angry. When you get mad, Trigon will run scared." Selina had never seen Rachel lose her temper, but guessed that danger to the Titans would bring out that anger. Battle-anger was different than being angry with someone.

"I will not lose control."

"Good- but you have every reason to be angry, Rachel. I think we're both done chatting for tonight- I'll go back to my date, you'll get to start having the fun of chatting to your team. I'll scare off everyone but Kori for you- Gar will spread my little rumor."

Rachel left the room a few minutes later, composure intact. She and Gar walked back into the movie without a word and took their seats. Rachel watched Gar as he leaned over to whisper details down the line. She could reach out- but it would hurt if he pushed her away, and when she left. Instead, she watched the credits, gave a brief explanation of her dislike for gunfire, and walked home. She had enough drama to last her for a long while.

**.Getting Back On.  
**Kori waited a few days before she decided that Rachel had been playing at distance for too long. After a few periods of loud knocking on Rachel's door, Kori decided to try a more direct query. "Rachel, you cannot ignore me forever." Kori knocked a fourth time. "I know this door will open if enough force is applied. Let's not make me test my strength."

Rachel knew that Kori would. "I'll open the door. Just give me a minute." She sent an e-mail before closing her laptop- the postage had become an annoyance, and e-mail was more convenient. Rachel pressed a button on the inside panel. "It's unlocked."

Kori took a step inside. Her toes were two inches into Rachel's room.

"Nothing in here will bite you," Rachel promised. Seeing Kori's eyes drawn to the picture of Arella and Lenore, Rachel fought the urge to hide the image. "That's my mother with her sister."

"You do not speak of your aunt," Kori said.

"She's been dead since I was five. She died from gunshot wounds- I don't know how many. Trigon killed her." Rachel gave into the compulsion and turned the smiling duo's faces to the wall. "I don't like gunshots, but the movie shouldn't have bothered me that much. I let my emotions get away from me."

"I did not come to ask why the movie upset you so, but thank you for the explanation." Kori was watching Rachel, and caught the surprise that Rachel couldn't smooth out with feigned apathy. "I came to ask why you have been avoiding friend Gar most diligently- though you ignore all of us, he is snubbed the most."

"I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea, and he stays with me enough to make up for anything I may or may not be doing." Rachel should have known that Kori wasn't so easily dissuaded. "You know I'll leave town before going into my father's line of business- I just don't want it to hurt, if I have to leave."

"Rachel, Gar doesn't know this. He tries to be a good friend, but you remain most set on maintaining your space. Would it hurt so much, if you allowed someone to know you a little better?" Kori knew that there were two possibilities. She would either enrage Rachel- or make her think.

Rachel finally said something after a minute. "I don't know, Kori."

"No one can tell you this, Rachel- this is something you must do on your own. I can't help you learn to trust people, in the most direct ways- but I'll listen, whenever you need to talk." Kori left before she could overstay her welcome. She didn't mean to pry, but her gaze was drawn to a very out-of-place plush chicken. Gar had a chance- Kori hoped that he didn't miss it.

"Is she okay?" Richard asked when Kori was far enough away that Rachel probably wouldn't hear a quiet question.

"Yes. She dislikes guns." Kori wouldn't share everything she knew. Some friendships needed a little discretion.

"I'm used to them. I've been around them all my life."

"Her mother's sister was murdered by Trigon. He used a gun. I think she is too used to guns."

"What if she hears one?" Richard knew that he might worry too much, but he needed to know when his teammates might need extra help.

"Then we will be there to help her. She will be fine, Richard. She kept a straight head when she was shot."

"She is level in a crisis," Richard admitted easily. "It's the rest of the time that she could use the help."

"You also need help, outside of fighting," Kori chided gently.

"That's what I have you around for."

"Is that all?" she asked with false severity, fighting to keep only a small smile showing.

"No," he said thoughtfully after a pretended pause for thinking.

Victor walked by twenty minutes later. The pair should really look into world records for how many conversations didn't involve words. He didn't have time to think about this- Rachel emerged from her room, a printed map in her hand.

"Red X is on the loose," Rachel announced without preamble.

Kori smiled. Glancing at the expression, the Titans were very happy that she fought with them. "Let's go get him, then." She and the rest of the Titans could and did change in two minutes. Kori was angrier than Richard as she pulled on a shoe. Kori did not trust this thief, and she took doubts she had harbored against Richard personally.

Victor followed the directions to the house that had registered an alarm. Barbara had glanced through her lamppost cameras to find the thief, and knew the Titans had a better chance of getting him. Rachel was the first person out of the car, and she hit the owner of the house over the head from behind. She really did not want to be recognized, an increasing danger as her father spread the word.

"He's pretty high in the gang," Rachel said, gesturing casually with her foot. The man deserved more than a light kick in the side. "Barbara will want him brought in- he knows exactly what happened to Blood. He was there."

Cyborg stayed with the unconscious man, waiting for a police cruiser. No one would be happy if the man got away, and someone had to stay on guard. Beast Boy and Raven went inside to sift through evidence of illicit activities- Barbara would accept a gift for Oracle's networks. Cyborg watched Robin and Starfire leave- as expected, Robin wanted to face the thief alone. Starfire wouldn't let him.

"Who was the man?" Starfire asked as they looked through the landscaping, Robin had finally accepted that it was sheer idiocy to go off alone- well, he had let her come without any further fighting. She accepted what she could get.

"Chang. He calls himself a professor, but no one else does. He outfits the HIVE for technology. Red X probably wants a recharge-pack from Chang- the suit can run a few basic programs, with a charge-pack." Richard knew he owed her a better explanation than that. "It can track motion, sense noise, and track heat signatures."

"So, he will find us." Kori watched intently as they passed bushes. Shesaw a familiarly shod foot in the leaves. Starfire said nothing. Instead, she whirled to meetthe ambush when Red X sprang. Robin was just a moment behind her.

Red X backed down after a quick test spar. The fight wasn't over, but he had idea what he was dealing with. "She's quick," Red X told Robin. "Where'd you find her? Not many girls that look like her can fight."

Starfire glared. She had known Rachel long enough to have picked up the theory. "_She _can speak for herself, chlorrbag," she snapped, trying to rein in her temper.

"You know, you're beautiful even when angry," Red X bantered. Starfire could imagine a smug grin to go with the distorted voice.

_If looks could kill, _Kori assured herself, _he would be twelve feet under, because I would kill him twice. _"Are you here to attempt witty repartee or fight? As you're obviously a half-wit, the first option is out."

"Too bad I didn't meet you first, Red," the thief said, a final shot. "I like fiery."

Robin was through with talk, and could see that Starfire needed to hit something. They moved into a full fight, just as they had practiced in the hologym. It was over within minutes of kicks and punches. Red X was good, but he met his match with two teamed fighters. He backed into the bushes. "Until next time, Red, Boy Blunder- I have what I came for."

Robin allowed himself a smirk as he held up a battery. "No, you don't. It really is a pity- Chang makes these special, and he's going to be in jail for awhile."

Red X gave a mocking salute. "You've won this round, Robin. You have the battery, the victory, and the girl." He left, quickly. He couldn't push Starfire too far- the pretty ones were always dangerous.

**.Applications. **  
"Gar, I have a present for you."

Rachel was dangerous in her benevolence. "You do?" he asked, looking at the short stack of paperwork she cradled in her arms.

"It's an application to Bell University and several reference letters. Shelia gave me all details you might not remember off-hand. I'm going to help you fill it in." Rachel dropped the stack on the table and took a seat beside him. She slowly pulled his math homework to the side while he was still figuring out what she was doing.

"It's too late," he protested.

"No. You have until March to apply, and until January 31st to apply and be considered for scholarships- that means that you still have two days. Your counselor sent a transcript yesterday."

Gar had encountered the counseling staff. Their goal in life seemed to be to keep students from cluttering up their offices. Getting anything done was hard- but he guessed that Rachel would be the person to get them to do it. "Fine."

"Fine? You're the guy who taught himself oncology research notation. What happened to the pediatric oncology doctor?" She always paid attention. She ignored his open-mouthed surprise and replaced the pencil in his hand with a pen. "Fill in your name."

He did. Faced with Rachel, that was the only option. "Why does this matter so much?"

"Don't check for dorm housing" was her only response as she glanced through the empty boxes and lines. "Bruce rented out the old Tern office building as an apartment complex. The place has six bedrooms, a common room, a kitchen, two bathrooms, a gym- all sorts of amenities that we'll get for no charge."

"The old T-shaped wreck?"

"He's renovating it. Tuition in California is free for residents- but your social worker says that the states are fighting over you again, so it'd be nice if you had a full-tuition scholarship, just to be safe. She included a letter to explain about your residency."

He stopped filling in his current schedule. "My social worker?"

"Everyone wants you to go. The university is hard to get into, maybe- but every doctor that you've ever had has sent in a letter of reference, half the people that know about the Titans have sent in a carefully edited letter, you have half the station offering a letter that carefully excluded a name. Even Dr. Isley wrote you a letter."

"Really?"

Rachel couldn't believe she had volunteered for the job. She had thought it would entail slogging through paperwork, not conversations. "Really. It's a wonderful life, Gar Bailey- now write in biology before you forget."

He smiled. "You're some angel."

"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is."

Rachel looked at him for a moment, abandoning pretense and dropping her stack of letters onto the table. "Stop flirting and finish your extracurricular activities."

"You started it," he protested as he moved on to the medical contact information section.

She had nothing to say that was not likely to lead into a childish argument. Instead, she gathered up the papers and stapled the letters in order. "Let's go mail this."

"No letters from you to someone?" he asked.

"I use e-mail." She regained her normal distance. She never had lost the monotone, but he knew enough to read her glare as she dared him to disapprove.

He knew when to give up. "Your friend is nice enough, Rachel- and the article was amazing. But- if he ever hurts you, or even makes you remotely uncomfortable, I will find him and knock all of the daylights, living or otherwise, out of him."

"Thanks, Gar, but I can handle a correspondence."

She didn't get it. He didn't doubt her competence. He wanted to help. "You can handle anything, Rachel, but I like to pretend that there's a reason for me to stick around."

She looked away from his smile. She believed him for a full minute before she decided to lighten the mood. "I think we just had a moment. Let's get this to the post-box before I feel sick, shall we?"

He knew what she meant. He remembered a kids' game from elementary school- and guessed that he couldn't look any sillier, in Rachel's eyes. She thought that he was an idiot, but he at least was a friendly idiot. He drew a circle on the back her hand, traced it a second time, and then tapped her hand twice. "See? Now, moments won't make you feel sick. You've been inoculated against cooties."

Rachel had a ghost of a smile around her eyes- or he was being optimistic. "That means you gave me some to begin with, Gar," she grumbled. She hadn't even thought of jerking her hand away- she banished that thought from her mind as they completed the errand. She put the sealed application in the mail box. He closed the door. "That wasn't so bad."

He smiled enough for the both of them. "Not bad at all."

**.So, What Do You Do Friday Nights?.  
**"Mia?" Gar hadn't expected a familiar face. He was a recurring volunteer at the hospital to speak to younger patients, but not many teenagers stayed in the young pediatrics section.

"What brings you here, Gar?" she asked, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. When dealing with children, it was better to be able to see.

"The 'It's for the kids' event night- and the free cotton candy. I'm with the cancer crowd." If she was here, she might understand.

"I talk to the positives. HIV positives, that is- I tell them all my funny stories about drugs." Mia was glad there was some use for them.

"I tell kids all kinds of crazy stories that parents shake their heads at. They still laugh in the right places, but they'll never believe that one of my best friends is Beast Boy," he said with a grin. "Even with proof, they doubt me."

"Not Raven?" Mia asked with a smile.

"Well, Beast Boy can show up to confirm my story, once in a while. Beast Boy is already booked for the Valentine's Day morale-raiser."

"How would he like to meet someone from the Titans East?" Mia asked, considering the idea. She trusted the doctors and nurses. No one would leak a story- and her doctor would finally have proof that she was exercising.

"Beast Boy wouldn't mind," he assured her, mock-serious. "The kids hear mostly funny stories, but the older ones can handle a few more serious tales. I tell them about my first fight, when I helped a teammate out and got my arm sliced open. Showing them a few scars usually stops them from asking to fight with me."

"Did you have to come to the hospital as Beast Boy?" she asked.

"Raven stitched me up, actually. She even used anesthetic."

"I've never gotten anything but bruises. I shoot disc-head arrows, but the fight still comes to me. Bee and Aqualad help me out, especially on my bad days when I can barely patrol, and Mas y Menos don't give me any trouble about being positive. I think Bee threatened to beat them, the first time, but they're good now."

"I've never met Aqualad."

"He's a nice guy," Mia said. "He showed up a few days after Bee and Cy broke it off- and two days later the star-eyed pair gave up and went on a date."

"Cy has a new steady, too."

"Oh?"

"Jinx."

"She did not tell me this," Mia said with a frown. "She teased me all over about how she's dating a good guy- I'm going to have a talk with her." The frown had changed to a smile, but Gar was still a bit nervous about having Jinx angry with him.

"Let's leave a certain cancer patient out of this, shall we?"

"I wouldn't send her after someone the kids like. You absorb most of the rambunctious huggers- you go first," she said at the door to the ward.

"Isn't it ladies first?" he asked.

"In hazardous situations like this, ladies watch the guys get swarmed. When it's somewhat safe, they go in."

Gar gave a mock salute. "Of course, General. Sir yes ma'am and all that- I'm going in." He did, bracing himself with his backmost foot at the first wave of pediatric patients. "Kaylee, I swear you've grown an inch of hair- Dennis, trust me, the ladies love bald and it's easier to not wait for it all to go- Brianna, please wait until I'm sitting down to demonstrate your newest way to knot shoelaces- Paul! Someone has a gold star for being nice to his nurses."

Mia moved in. "Just a minute, before we go through the rounds- who's the new girl? Susan? Oh, Susan_nah, _sorry about that." Mia giggled when the largest HIV patient picked her up and carried her to the squashiest armchair- she didn't know what normal teenagers did on Friday nights, but patrol and charity were fine for her.


	41. Obsession

_The content of this was meant to happen over two chapters, but a few sudden (and unexpected) changes in the plot altered where the chapter division fell- and after a long wait, you deserve a little extra reading. Portions of the last section of the chapter were co-written by dr.evil99- who is nothing like Michael Cooper._

**Chapter Forty-one: Obsession**  
Richard added another thumbtack to a large map of Forston, squinting to find the exact position. The Titans had encountered Red X several more times, and there was no pattern. Red X was on his own side. After the first encounter, the thief continued his attempts to charm Starfire. Richard didn't have a gift for flattery, and did not want to lose. If the thief was in jail, Richard could claim a default victory. He hated losing.

Rachel looked over the map. After watching the precise placement of a thumbtack, she decided with much regret that a talk was necessary. "You know, you could try complimenting Starfire- and Kori. Have you seen the way she lights up when you say 'good morning?' If you commented about why you're perpetually staring at her, Red X wouldn't have a chance of catching her attention."

"I'm not good at all that stuff," he muttered.

"Do you think she'll care?" Rachel countered. "Start simple, then- she looks more beautiful than usual. 'You look beautiful today' implies that she isn't beautiful other days- and if you give one compliment a week, she'll have time to doubt herself."

"See? I wouldn't know that." Richard went back to his map.

"You're not competing fairly with Red X, if this is a standoff," she said after another thumbtack was pinned in place.

"Oh?"

"Kori's crazy about you, and she talks my ear off about a time you stuttered out something that might have been complimentary. She'll chatter about the expression on your face when you say 'good morning.'" Rachel didn't know why she had volunteered for this talk- no one else knew what she was doing.

"I'm not good at flirting."

"If the girl is interested, you don't need to have any talent. You just need to say what you feel." Rachel took no excuses. "If I can manage flirting, so can you."

"How?" he asked.

"Just- joke around a little, for lack of a better term. Kori will have even more to talk about- you should hear the dithering about the wedding. She still is fussing about dress."

"I don't suppose I get details?"

"No. I want to see the look on your face when you escort her down the aisle, groomsman. I'll tell you one detail- she looks beautiful."

"She always does."

"See?" Rachel demanded. "Say that kind of stuff to her, and she'll be as pink as the dress she'll be wearing." He could hear that much detail.

"Thanks, Rachel."

"Any excuse to hassle people," she said, dismissing gratitude.

"What would Gar think?" Richard asked, remembering something from the conversation- she wasn't getting out of this without a single personal remark. He spoke even as she left for her room, and continued when she turned. "You've been flirting. The poor guy's been trying to get you to open up for months."

Raven paused in her doorway. No one else was in the basement yet- it was safe. "Who do you think I was flirting with?" she asked. After a moment of appreciating the look on Richard's face, she slipped into her room. Richard wouldn't be spreading that around, she knew- he spent his confusion in private thought.

**.Daughter and Mother.**  
Rachel had almost given up on trying to get sense from her mother. Instead, she tried to soothe worries, however silly they seemed. Rachel carefully removed invisible spots on the good china with dish soap while telling long stories that Arella almost understood. After a full day of simple companionship, Rachel took out a contraband item- a picture that had accompanied Lenore's obituary. "Angela, look at this."

Arella looked at the picture after taking it gently with slender fingers. "Her hair is from the nineties- that's all I can see. Who is she?"

"Someone I met once, Arella." It hadn't worked. Rachel should have guessed. "She's a nice girl."

"Some girls are nice, yes," Arella said, already distracted by a new idea. "Will you help me, Raven? My hands shake, sometimes, and I do need to be ready for a fancy dinner tonight."

Rachel agreed. Her mother could get away with more than anyone else. She would answer to Raven for her mother. She would listen to her mother's nonsense. She would help her mother with makeup- some day, it would all be worth it. Rachel remembered her mother, and so did Arella.

**.Thieves. **  
"Starfire, a girl as beautiful as you shouldn't have to listen to that thief," Robin said spontaneously, safe behind the semi-anonymity of his mask. It had taken a few days, but he had finally acted on Rachel's advice.

She froze for a second before easing into a smile. "Robin, I think we could best ambush Red X from the side- we can recover any stolen objects after the fight."

Starfire landed a good kick seconds after the abbreviated banter was done, but attributed the move to luck when Robin commented. She picked up the night's steal- weapons. "These can go to Barbara," she said distastefully as she began to head back towards the car. The other Titans guessed that Starfire and Robin wouldn't need backup on their tail.

"What about him?"

"Red X can stay there," Starfire said, glancing at the lawn. "I live in this area. The sprinklers will go off in a few minutes, and by the contact I felt, he'll wake up in an hour. That's making allowances for his thick head. It would be a shame to lose an interesting criminal- and he did steal these from someone involved in the gangs."

Robin shrugged. "If you think so."

She decided that she might as well ask- he didn't pick up questions that weren't direct. "What brought on a compliment?"

"It's more a matter of whom, to be honest- Rachel basically said that if she can manage flirting with Gar, I can start saying the nice things I keep thinking."

Kori beamed. "You are nice." She kissed him on the cheek. There was no use distracting him when they were on patrol- and that mask tickled. "Perhaps Rachel and Gar will soon be seated on a branch? That would make going out with friends less awkward, if there were three couples."

Richard sorted through her phrase before reaching the car, taking an extra moment in loading the trunk. "Sitting in a tree? That would be an interesting sight. But, if all that stuff's coming to mind- Valentine's Day is in ten days. Would you do me the honor of getting through a formal dinner with me?"

"Yes." Kori agreed before asking. "How formal?"

"It's a benefit hosted by Wayne Enterprises for a few charities- Selina could tell you the details on what to wear. She's coming with Bruce."

Kori coaxed more details from him while in the car. It did him no harm, to explain formal dinners and dates and such to friends, and Richard only laughed off teasing from Victor and Gar. She would have to thank Rachel for convincing him to open up a little- or maybe she could try getting Rachel a date for Valentine's Day. Kori had just the guy in mind, and he was single- she gave an innocent glance to her left to see Gar looking out the window, only occasionally glancing at Rachel.

**.Pressure.**  
Victor didn't ask. Rachel was staring at nothing, and only adding the occasional cryptic comments to the conversation. Gar had tried for an explanation, but she was still grappling with an internal conflict. She had mentioned something about an 'Arella,' at one point, but she quickly refused to explain who or what that was.

"Rachel, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Gar."

Kori decided to help him. "The Day of Valentine is only three days away. Are you considering a date?" Kori asked, ignoring Gar's panicked expression. Maybe he should have said something.

"I don't plan on a date," Rachel said. The words weren't as sharp as she had intended. "Someone would have to come to mind, to plan on a date."

Gar paled when three Titans gave him very pointed looks. Richard had no right to glare. Kori had started them off- and if a guy tried what she had, it looked like a case of sexual harassment. Besides legal considerations, Rachel was much more intimidating. "Um, guys? Tone down the staring."

Gar noticed that Rachel had her homework out before anyone could respond. Three teammates gave Gar even more direct looks. The grace period of 'no comment' had expired. "Knock it off," Gar hissed. He wished they hadn't chose to do this while she was sitting next to him. "Rachel," he said at a normal volume after the encouraging looks didn't stop and whispered encouragement was ignored by both of them. "It's nothing against you."

Rachel set down her books. "Nothing personal, then?" she asked mildly.

"Of course," he said, relieved that he hadn't gone along with the plan to ask her. If he did, it wouldn't be because three people were egging him on.

_Of course it's not personal. He's just very happy to keep affairs platonic. _"Are we done staring now?" she asked the other three.

"Gar, I thought you had something to say." Victor wasn't giving up.

Gar glared at Victor, but he didn't know how to put force behind it. Obviously, the three were not going to stop. "No offense meant, Rachel, but you've been acting a little- well, creepy." He remembered the many distracted comments she had made. He wished he hadn't been pushed into saying something to make the matchmakers leave off.

_Gar and Rae, what a couple- I ripped you apart with one smile. _Rachel blinked. She was not listening to Tara. Tara had been in a coma for a month and a half. She ignored the worried glances her friends exchanged when she didn't hear something Victor had said. _It's probably your personality. _Rachel would not be affected by Tara's words from 'that night,' as the Titans had taken to calling it. _He always said you were a creepy cold-hearted witch._

Rachel had walked away from the table before she remembered all of Tara's comments. She didn't see the exit, or even the handle that she pressed to open the door. She only remembered all the signs she should have seen. After all this time, he still sided with Tara. Logic said that he couldn't know what words Tara had used. Rachel didn't care for logic.

By the time Kori collected a perfectly composed Rachel from the ladies' room, Rachel had already made a phone call. So what if Gar proved Tara right? Rachel had another friend she could meet. Michael Cooper had never been anything but charming.

"Rachel?"

"I'm fine, Kori, just a little disappointed. That's all." Rachel accepted her books from Kori with a polite thank-you. Rachel had been more upset than she had realized, to leave her books behind.

"He may speak differently without prying eyes." Kori should have known not to push him- but she, Victor, and Richard had wanted to help.

"Or he may have just told the truth he wouldn't tell me alone. It's no one's fault, Kori." Rachel was always prepared for disappointment. It made life's small failures hurt less.

Kori kept disapproval for after school, when Rachel walked home. Kori knew the guys of the team would want to hear a diagnosis on Rachel's state of mind. "She appears to take this news extremely well. This worries me."

Gar was angry at everyone, most of all himself. "It's hard enough telling that kind of stuff to a girl, and the audience didn't help. Besides that, I'm busy on Valentine's Day."

"Busy?" Victor asked.

"I volunteer at the hospital, and Mia's helping out. Even if I wasn't busy, I wouldn't take Rachel out for Valentine's Day. That's way too much for a first date."

"You like her," Richard said, just to confirm what Gar had said aloud.

"Yes." Gar knew that answer was easy.

"When does she get to know?" Victor asked.

**.Spellbound.**  
To his credit, Gar had tried to undo the damage several times. He was discouraged after the eighth curt refusal. By the tenth, no one would have faulted him for giving up. After the nineteenth, Gar gave Rachel the space she seemed to want. It was much more pleasant to silently almost enjoy lunch, after three days of fighting.

Mia paused when she passed the table. "I'll see you tonight," she said before leaving. Everyone but Rachel had heard the arrangement- she had been in her room talking on the telephone when Gar discussed his plans.

Rachel knew she would forget their fight sooner or later. Once she could stop transposing Tara onto Gar, she would make the move to resume friendship. Until then, she remembered the phone call. Michael Cooper was flattered that she would telephone him to discuss a personal problem, and quick to assure her that her friend was in the wrong. Rachel was unsure about the proposed meeting, but they had been talking for months. Rachel tapped Gar on the shoulder on her way out.

"Have a good night," she told him, so close to sincere that it should count.

"I really am sorry," he said again. She was listening, this time.

"It's okay, Gar." She couldn't hold it against him, really. He didn't know why she was acting 'creepily,' and she wouldn't give him the reasoning. "I'll see everyone for patrol tomorrow." In honor of Valentine's Day, all Titans had the day off, courtesy of the police. Really, the chief had forbidden patrols and said that they needed the night off. Everyone was using it, and Rachel felt that she could follow suit for once.

Rachel left with only a communicator in her pocket. She would not need to be Raven tonight. She politely refused a ride from Victor. It was a perfect night for a walk, one of the rare perfect winter days. Rachel didn't even have to knock after finding the house; the door opened before she could try.

"Hello, Rachel."

Rachel couldn't name the look in his eyes. "Michael."

"My friends call me Malchior, an old nickname of mine, and I do hope that we can be friends." He stepped back. "Come in, come in- forgive me if I've forgotten proper manners, but you are more beautiful in person."

She blushed. He had been calling her beautiful for at least a month, and she still wasn't sure what he saw. "Malchior, then," she said. In person, the slight British accent made him sound all the more different from other men she knew.

She didn't know what they were going to discuss, but he did. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked, walking to his kitchen. She followed, looking around the house. It was more sensible than opulent, almost like Gar's home. "I have coffee, tea, soda, water, hot chocolate-"

"Tea will be fine," she said.

He found two varieties. "Do you like loose leaves or teabags? I prefer loose, but they're not as 'convenient' and so are losing popularity." He made the tea after she said 'loose,' and smiled at the coincidence that he would have her favorite brand. He knew it was the only kind of tea she drank regularly. "Now, about these friends of yours," he said, taking a seat. "They don't seem to understand you at all."

"Some days, I don't think they would if I told them," Rachel admitted, taking a sip of tea. It was just how she liked it, with a pinch of sugar to enhance the flavor. "They're wonderful friends," she defended quickly, "but they just have their own problems."

"Of course they are," he said. He wouldn't be able to get rid of that small bias from her. "You need someone who can understand all of you."

"Maybe they would, if I told them," Rachel said. Considering the manner from a distance, she knew that it wasn't fair to expect them to understand her when they knew nothing about her. They knew that Richard's father had been involved in less-than-legal activities.

"If they knew who your father was, do you think they would be so kind?" he asked, gaze never leaving her face.

Rachel would have dropped her teacup, but it was resting on the saucer. "I do not know what you mean, Malchior."

"Rachel, I'm a cultured man. I understand that your life must have been difficult, keeping secrets such as Trigon away from everyone. Everyone has guessed that he will remain in the family for his next chain of command. Undoubtedly, you do not plain to take a place in gang leadership," Malchior said, taking a risk.

"I'm running away." Rachel had to be able to trust him. He knew too much already, if he knew of Trigon and the Teen Titans.

"There is no need to do so alone. I know that you would wish for a friend to accompany you."

She frowned. "No. The Titans have futures here, and I will not ask them to come with me. My trek will be dangerous."

"I will come with you."

Rachel stood, taking half a step back before she considered. "Why?"

"I know everything about you, Rachel, but I still see how beautiful you are." He stood, leaving her a few feet of space. "I can prove it to you, Rachel. I know everything about you."

Rachel followed him into the main hall. He opened a door into a narrow room. Rachel stayed in the doorway, looking around. She saw pictures of herself. She looked at the camera only for those shots that had been in a yearbook. The portrait nearest the door showed her smiling slightly as she looked at someone else. Rachel remembered that day, and knew that Gar had been cut out of the picture. The picture was expanded to be the size of a poster, and the matting and the elaborate frame made the photograph look even larger.

"You're beautiful," he said encouragingly, with a cultured smile. "No one else will accept you."

Rachel's eyes narrowed and her lips disappeared into an angry gray line. For all his declarations of knowledge, he didn't figure out that she was furious. She recognized a new look in his eyes, and did not like such a possessive stare. "You are a self-serving bastard who won't be going anywhere."

"You can't expect your friends to accept you," he said, accent disappearing into a rough voice. "No one will ever understand you like I can. You will not be alone again. You'll be with me."

Rachel took the picture from the wall, giving it a final look. It really was a nice picture. Nonetheless, she felt no remorse when she broke the glass cover over his head, creating a very nice shattering sound. He toppled forward. A second swing broke the cheap laminate backing, and made Rachel feel much better. She decided with the last of reckless adrenaline to make sure he was out of her sight, and dragged him into the closet in the living room. It had just enough room for him beneath the coats. She slammed the door and propped a chair up against it.

She looked around, but couldn't find a suitable tool for destruction. She did find a metal trash can in the garage, which would work. The too-large picture was still smiling at her, despite the broken frame. She picked it up and hit it against the wall by the door, using the brick surface that wouldn't show marks. She bashed the picture again, repeating the action until only fragments were left.

Garfield still heard a steady pounding inside the house he had been staring at for two minutes. He had heard a very loud shattering sound, followed by a second noise. He had changed out of the outfit that made him Beast Boy, but someone should look. Mia lived just two streets away, and she had said that her neighborhood wasn't always safe. That was why he had walked her home after the hospital's curfew for patients. Decision made, he approached the door just as the rhythmic pounding stopped. The door swung open. If he hadn't jumped back a step, he would have had a broken nose.

"Garfield?"

"Rachel?"

She realized just how bad the situation looked. She set down the now-mangled picture frame. "What brings you to this part of the neighborhood? I thought you were on a hot date."

"Well, this neighborhood's very scenic at night, especially when the chalk outlines of bodies glow in the moonlight." He glanced inside the house. "Do I want to know what's going on in here?" This was too weird. Rachel was standing in the doorway of a stranger's house, with a backdrop of broken furniture and fragments of glass. He didn't like jumping to conclusions, but this looked bad.

"So, that's why you brought your date through here. It's a pity that she isn't here for the party." Rachel followed her gaze, giving the demolished house a thoughtful look. The destruction of the wall hadn't been enough to sate her fury, so she had used the picture to ruin everything breakable. "If you'll pardon me, I have a little more to take care of. You wouldn't happen to have a lighter on hand, would you? All the matches around here are too damp to be of use."

"Rachel, you're scaring me now. What happened in here?" He had never heard her so angry, and he wasn't fooled by her quiet voice. The muscles on the side of her face were tensed, a sign that her jaw was clenched very tightly, even while speaking.

"Oh, I just found a problem and took care of it," she said brightly. "Everything is under control. After I've finished dealing with a few other matters, I'll call Eve. Go on home, Gar. I'll finish up alone." She sounded close to being upbeat, despite her fury. Something was wrong.

"Rachel, I'm not sure that you need to be alone right now," he said carefully. "I can walk you back you your part of town, at least. It's only a few blocks out of my way, and I'd-"

"No. I am not going back to my part of town without getting rid of a few things I don't want anyone to see." If she sounded unnecessarily cryptic, she didn't notice. "But- you'd expect as much, right? I'm probably a serial killer. Murder is suitably creepy." The comment still stung, no matter how much she tried to justify it. "Good night, Gar," she said, slamming the door.

Only quick reflexes let him jam his foot in the door before she could shut him out. He stifled a cry of pain before continuing. "I'm not expecting anything, because you've said nothing about what's happening. If I'm going to help you with arson, I'd like to know why I'm going to go to jail. What's going on?" He couldn't let his irritation become obvious. Getting mad at her when she was in this state would only make her worse.

He was stronger than he had been. That was good for the team, but that meant she couldn't use brute force. She wasn't much bigger than he was. "It's not arson if I burn what should belong to me. You've been the model of someone to talk to. Why would I tell you what's going on in my life, _Garfield? _You've been out with Mia, I've been busy. I need to deal with this alone." She tried again to slam the door, but his foot remained firmly in her way.

"What does Mia have to do with anything?" He was getting upset. He took a deep breath. "I'm not sure what's going on here, but I'm not leaving without some sort of answer. I don't care if you lie, but tell me something!" He was losing control again, but he needed it. "I have no idea what's happening, but you know you can talk to me. Rachel, can't you tell me something? Please?" He looked in her eyes, but couldn't see her very well through the narrow opening in the door.

Her eyes narrowed. Of _course _Mia had nothing to do with his date for Valentine's Day, when Rachel was too creepy to date. "The truth is more outrageous than lies, right? Tell you what- call Eve in an hour, when they have somebody to bring in for questioning. I could talk to you, if I wanted to, but the trouble is over. Thanks for not being there when I had a problem, but I can handle him from here." She didn't react to her slip. Gar didn't have to know how stupid she had been.

"Wait a second- problem? _Him? _I'm not going anywhere, if you're having problems with guys that result in violence and wrecked houses. I'll stand here until you tell me what's going on if it takes all night." He was not leaving her when she was in that state.

"Yes, problem. I underestimated how mind-numbingly stupid people could be, and that's my problem. You can stand there all night, if you so desire. Then, my father can know for sure about this mess. I have enough to deal with, Gar. I don't need anyone else involved." She kicked the picture, moving the flash of purple hair into obscurity.

He didn't comment on the picture just yet. "Rachel, you can tell me. Whatever is happening, any of us would do anything to help you. You know that. The way you're acting now, after preaching to me all those months about letting people help, makes you a hypocrite. Take your own advice, Rachel- let me help, or at least let someone help. I don't care if you don't want me to be here, but I want someone to be there for you." That was a lie. He would care, if Rachel didn't want him to help- but that wasn't important.

"No. I don't need help. Do you know what happens, when I trust someone who knows enough about me? Once, someone betrayed us all for Slade. This time-" Rachel stopped. She had run out of words. "Just- go away!" She shoved him, hard. He wouldn't break bones in the short fall down three steps, and bruises would heal. "Don't tell me what to do, don't make me think I can trust you, and don't tell me I'm not creepy!" she yelled, the first time she had lost any portion of her control all night. Inside, she leaned against the door, exhausted from the effort of trying to make him understand. He shouldn't have tried. He should just leave her alone.

Gar landed hard, but the words hurt more. Whoever made up that stupid rhyme about sticks and stones had been a hermit. "Rachel?" he said, rising slowly. He sat on the top step, feeling the developing bruise on a knee that would be sore the next day. "I'm still here, Rachel, and I'm not going anywhere," he said quietly. She could hear him. "No matter what you do or say, I'm not leaving without you. That's a promise, and you know that I don't break promises. We always seem to be fighting, but I've never lied to you, and I never will. You can trust me, Rachel, with anything. What do I have to do to prove that to you?" he asked, hating how much he depended on her answer. "Talk to me, will you?"

"Weren't you listening?" Rachel said at the same volume. "I do trust you, and that's the problem, you blockhead." She felt the progress of a single tear as it slid down her cheek. _Control, Rachel. _Fine. He would know just how stupid she had been. She roughly dried her face. "Every time I've trusted someone this much, Gar- something bad happened. Tara and- and Malchior, they knew a few things about me. Tara black-mailed me. Malchior tried to- I don't know exactly what he wanted, and I don't want to. There are things about me that I won't tell you yet, if ever." She was honest- he deserved that. She opened the door slowly, ruined picture in hand. "There are more like this," she said of the candid picture. She had never guessed that anyone followed her.

He stood. "Go on, Rachel," he said with the gentlest smile she could manage. Once she had a little violence out of her system, she usually was ready to talk. He remembered the day she had looked that happy outside of the Thai restaurant- no one in their group had taken a picture.

"I have lied, though," she said. "I hate lying, but the truth is worse, most of the time. I think you know that my father's name isn't Raoul. For this- words don't work as well. I want to show you something." Rachel almost wanted to take his hand, to prove to herself that he wasn't a dream, but she instead took a few steps down the hall. The house itself was untouched, and almost all broken objects were pictures. The tea set was an exception, but it was only chips of porcelain amid a mess of soggy leaves. She stopped beside the room.

The walls were covered in candid pictures and enlargements of yearbook photographs. Letters and transcripts of e-mails littered the floor, many ripped into uneven fragments. There was even a leather-bound notebook with RACHEL ROTH embossed into the cover. "This has everything about me, Gar. My birthday, my favorite brand of tea, what clothes I wear, what books I read, who my father is-" Her voice caught. "He lied to me, Gar." She had been an idiot, and now he knew.

"Who, Rae? Who did this to you?" Gar asked. His voice was cold, but she had to know he wasn't angry with her. He felt the anger start, but kept the red away. He needed to be there for her- the violator could be dealt with later.

"Do you remember that reporter?" she asked, starting slowly. "He was the first person to send me fain mail, way back in November. I sent him a letter, just mentioning that it was nice to hear from a fan. We talked through the occasional letter, until it grew to at least a letter a week. Then, we switched to e-mail, and then to messaging. I'd talked to him for four months, and after- after everything this week, I needed someone to talk to. He invited me here, and-" She gestured to the room, losing words after a rush of speech. "There was all this. He's obsessed with me, Gar, and I couldn't even tell what the look in his eyes meant until it was too late."

"Rachel, it'll turn out fine, I promise." He hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder, hoping she wouldn't pull away. "No one has to know about this guy but me, if you want. We all know that you're a private person, and the team just wants someone to know."

She shrugged his hand away after a moment. "I believed him, Gar. Everything will be fine, as soon as I burn some of this evidence. No one needs to see that journal. I don't want anyone reading that, not even Eve." She glared at the offending object. "I do not want to know where he found some of those copies. He has copies of my birth certificate, and even my police record from about ten years ago." She did not need a reminder of that.

_Police record? _he thought. He could press that issue later, if he needed to. "We can get rid of this stuff, but you need to promise me that you'll call me the next time something like this is happening. You can't do this all by yourself- some secrets aren't meant to be kept. Talk to someone- I don't care who it is. You have more friends that you think."

Rachel shrugged before picking up the journal with just two fingers. No one else was reading through that notebook. She dropped it into the trash can. "This is what the police shouldn't see. The police report is nothing exciting. I filed a false report when I was eight. I just don't want any tension with the station." Her words were clipped. She still doubted that her report was completely false, but the idea had made part of her troubles resolve. "After all this stuff is gone, the police can collect Malchior- or Cooper, or whoever he is."

"Where is he?" Gar asked. He could see the red rising in his vision.

"Unconscious. He'll be out for quite a while, even with his thick skull. I kind of- um, bashed him over the head with the picture." Rachel found a second emotion she couldn't name, watching Gar become so mad, but this one was more pleasant.

"He's lucky, if you ask me," Gar muttered. He didn't know exactly what this Cooper fellow deserved, but Rachel had restrained her temper. He pulled a book of matches from his pocket. He had quietly confiscated them from a boy in the hospital ward. After a quiet lecture, Gar was almost sure that there wouldn't be a repeat. "Here. These should start." He watched her light a match and set the book alight. He pulled up two chairs from the kitchen table. "You feed your fire, Rae. I'm just here." He didn't want to touch anything in that room. Those things were Rachel's to destroy.

After a few minutes, she added a stack of print-outs to the fire. She saved a few as evidence, placing them neatly aside. "This will blow my cover completely with Eve, but she'll have everything she needs. Thanks, Gar," she said. It wasn't enough, but she couldn't articulate how grateful she was that he hadn't even tried to look. "I'm calling Eve with my communicator- I might as well. Raven and Rachel are the same person, now." She left for the kitchen while calling. She gave a quick summary of the crazed fan. Officers would be there within two minutes. Rachel repeated that much to Gar. "Do you remember how Babs was, after the Red X stuff?" Rachel asked, sinking into a chair.

"Yes."

"She's worse, right now," Rachel said with a shudder. She never would have guessed that Barbara could be angrier.

"This is going to be fun." Gar was not looking forward to seeing Barbara that mad, even if the anger wasn't directed at him. "I'll stay here, no matter what. You trusted me- it's my turn."

"Babs says that she'll talk to me tomorrow, after I've had time to rest. She's mad as anything, but this place isn't wheelchair friendly. I just need to wait for the cops to show up, and then I can go home." Rachel knew that she could trust Gar, but she wished she trusted herself enough to tell him the truth.

He stood. "I'll bring the trash can outside, and then I'll wait for you. This neighborhood's not safe for anyone to walk through alone."

"The trash can was in his garage, and only ashes are left." Rachel felt that she should put it back, but she was still watching the closet. The chair kept the door closed, but she didn't care. She did not want Malchior to look at her again while he came too close to convincing her with those words.

"I'll wait for you down the street. My mom won't be too worried- she's used to my weird hours," Gar said after putting the garbage can away.

"You don't need to leave- unless you want to." She guessed that he couldn't spend too much time with her. This was like Tara all over again. "I understand, if you don't want to stay." Her monotone was back to perfect. There was no way to tell if she would have added emotion to the statement.

"You- you want me to stay? I will, if you want me to." That was a surprise. Rachel usually was careful to isolate herself, and Gar had tried to not make her uncomfortable. He sat back down. "I can stay?"

"Yes," Rachel said, a little too quickly. "Mia- wouldn't mind?"

"Why would she?" He asked, puzzled. "She'd be too tired to hang out, right now. Those kids wear her out."

"Oh." _Wait- the _kids? "What kids?"

"That's where we were, tonight. It was one of the wards-open visiting days, and they like bigger kids with terminal illnesses to come in and give pep talks. Mia and I spent a lot of time in wards, so we know how boring it gets. We help out, when we have time," Gar explained. He remembered the volunteers from when he was little- it was only fair to pass on the favor.

"You have odd ideas for dates," she said, keeping her tone mildly scathing. She had thought Gar was more of a romantic than that.

"_Dates?" _he asked, shocked. "You mean, you thought that we- no! We aren't like that. Mia's a great girl, but we aren't- you know, like- that."

"You aren't?" Rachel asked. His stuttered refusal gave her plenty of time to regroup. "I just guessed, hearing that she'd 'see you tonight,' and since it's Valentine's Day."

"It is? Oh, yeah- Kori was bouncing off the walls." Gar hadn't thought about it. When not dating anyone, February 14th was nothing special. "I didn't have any other plans. I've never even needed to buy a little black book. How about you?" He suddenly realized what he had just said. "I can't believe that some guy at school didn't ask you to one of the lame dances every year."

She looked at him. He was serious. "You weren't at Forston High freshman year. You know that the football team's a little wary of me, right? There's a reason for that. The quarterback was joking around freshman year and asked me. He had the whole team in the math class, and the teacher just left. I said a few things about his likely hobbies, parentage, and skill as a player- among other things, I think. I was pretty mad that they were trying to make me be the laughingstock end of their joke. In the resulting chaos, I think the cumulative total was seventeen broken bones- after the first eight seconds, I flipped off the lights and left. No one else has ever asked me."

Gar smiled. "I don't have any really funny stories- and freshman year, I didn't know Forston existed. I was still being juggled around." No one had kept him for more than eleven months, so the homes and foster parents and siblings and pets and towns all blurred together. "This place is the first town I've actually wanted to stay in. This is the first place I've had something to do but worry about cancer."

"I've always been in Forston. Vic was great, but we had an odd sort of friendship. The Titans- that was my first chance at real friends. Nobody's going to mess that up." She directed her anger where it was needed, in her opinion- at herself and at the closet's occupant. "I knew he was lying, Gar- but I still wanted to believe him."

"That's natural, Rachel. He probably said what you wanted to hear. I know what that's like. It hurts- but it'll get better, someday, and you'll find the person you're looking for," Gar said.

"Maybe, but I don't know who else would lie to me." Rachel knew Gar would be honest, and make it not hurt. "I believed him, when he said I was b-"

The police burst through the open door. Rachel jumped up to meet the cops, surprised to see Eve there. Rachel gave another description of the deranged fan, leaving Gar's identity out of matters. Eve assured her that there was more than enough evidence to lock him away- and that was the point where someone in the closet started thumping. Rachel shrank away, leaving four officers to take away the chair and open the door.

Gar moved with her as the officers brought out handcuffs. "Are you going to be okay?" he whispered, noticing that she was warily eyeing Malchior as the police read his Miranda rights.

"I will," she said, just as quietly. She tried to escape notice- but she was the only non-uniformed female in the area.

"No one else will love you like I do, Raven," Malchior yelled. "Who else would agree with me? I'll tell the word the truth, that you are devil-spawn, girl, and no-" At that point, the handcuffed prisoner was accidentally led into a wall. That was the official story, anyway. No one mentioned that Eve's nightstick had left its holster.

"Tomorrow, Rachel- if you want to hold off further, just call us. Malchior is going to an asylum, and I can say that now. Barbara and I won't spread around whatever malice he spills. He's obviously a delusional and dangerous fan. We have ourselves a textbook case," Eve said as the other officers brought Malchior out to the police cruisers. A police car left without a siren.

Gar unclenched his fists and glanced at his palms. He had marks from his nails. "That was unpleasant," he said. "You're still okay, right? We can still talk."

"I want to just go home. I don't want to see this place again." She could only ignore Malchior's words for so long. Deranged or not, he had seemed reasonable. "I trusted him, Gar," she said, buttoning her coat and walking out the front door. Once on the sidewalk, she kept to a more natural pace. She didn't look back as the two left officers began to gather evidence.

"And he broke that trust, but that doesn't mean everyone will," Gar said, walking by her side. "You can't get through everything alone.

"It's harder when you have people, sometimes, because you have other people to worry about." Rachel knew it was too close to her birthday. Her father was putting on pressure again. "I know to not trust my father- that's just common sense."

"You and your dad never do get along, but I can guess what some parts of it are like. I've had my share of nasty foster parents," he said. "You can talk to me."

She smiled sadly, an odd quirk of the lips. "Remember that time in the graveyard? That's fairly typical. He's very physical, and he wants me to be just like him.

"That wasn't a one-time wonder, but that doesn't happen, now. We have real fights, now." She was unaccountably angry. Gar didn't have to be so righteous- what gave him the privilege? "Don't make it sound like I'm abused. It's not like that. He's- different." She was defending her father, now, but Trigon wanted her to be strong enough to survive in his business. "You couldn't understand, Gar- it's never something that gets a good reaction."

Gar shrugged. "I could try to understand, if you'd explain it to me, but there's never a reason to hit a kid. You don't deserve that- you're better than you give yourself credit for, Rachel."

"Some people have secrets. Would you ask Richard about his father?" Rachel already knew. "You didn't ask Kori what happened to her." Kori had told them about the time in Africa, but that was beside the point.

She was right, but her example didn't quite compute. "I know, but I still worry about you. I can't help but worry- you've been acting differently lately. If I thought Richard or Kori needed someone to talk to, I'd go to them." He looked away, making sure no cars were coming. Signals in this part of town rarely worked. "If you don't want to talk to me, just talk to someone else."

"Do you mean acting off in the last few days?" she asked. Three days ago, she had agreed to speak to Malchior on the phone. "It's not something I need to talk about. Doing so would escalate the problem."

"If that's it, there's nothing else for me to say. I won't ask you to share, if you really don't want to." They were at her corner before he spoke again, and he looked her straight in the eye. "I'm here, no matter what happens. You think you're alone, but you're not." He hadn't said anything for most of the walk, which was for the better. She didn't like to hear the same point repeated.

Before she knew what she was doing, she wrapped her arms around him for a hug. She didn't move for a full minute. He didn't push her away- that would have made the pressure in her eyes change to tears. Instead, after a few seconds, she felt his arms gently reach around her back. "I'll see you tomorrow," she promised before she left. Nearby bushes and walls made sure that she was out of sight quickly. She didn't understand. He hadn't even tried to shrug her away- and he hadn't been in shock, if he had hugged her back. Maybe he hadn't minded.

Gar stood on the corner in almost total confusion. _First she doesn't want to talk, and then she hugs me? _It had felt good, to feel her arms around him. For some reason, that felt right. After a few stunned minutes, Gar walked towards his neighborhood. He didn't move too quickly- he had a lot to think about.


	42. Guilt

_Maybe this chapter was a bit slow in coming, but I'm very choosy about what I release to be in this story. I try keeping myself to a fairly high standard. Some chapters get a better reception than others, but I try to make sure none are missing a vital point or two. Maybe this chapter doesn't have any action of the physical variety, but I think everyone will agree that we have a few courageous characters in here- and that two characters have reached a very important stage of their relationship. _

**Chapter Forty-two: Guilt**  
By the time Gar called Richard with a warning the next day, it was too late. Barbara was already in the basement in a fine temper, and even Alfred was reluctant to stay near her for too long. Everyone knew that Batgirl (and Oracle, and Barbara) was dangerous when angry, but no one could recall projectiles in previous cases. Tim hadn't come with her, for once- Barbara wanted to speak to only one person. Gar said nothing about why Barbara was in such a mood. All he confirmed was that Barbara was not mad at a Titan, Alfred, Bruce, Tim, or anyone that wasn't in Block C of containment in Forston's station.

Gar wouldn't say anything, even with three Titans pressuring him. He waited for Rachel to make her appearance. She was precisely on time for a Saturday morning, like usual. She guessed that Gar had told them- but they couldn't look that confused and know what happened. Ignoring Kori, Victor, and Richard, she spoke to Barbara after a quick glance at Gar. Maybe it wasn't enough, after what he'd done for her, but he might understand. "Did he say anything new, Barbara?"

"No, just the same old nonsense- Eve knows, now, but she can keep a secret. She had to be present, for protocol, and you didn't answer your communicator." Babs yawned as she drank from a third cup of Alfred's Batman-blend 'I have a seven AM meeting and just patrolled for six hours' coffee. "Dr. Quinn will be the psychologist, if you won't mind. He's singing like a crazy canary- he'll have solitary, at this rate."

Rachel nodded once. "Chief Phillips and Harley are fine." She assumed that Harley was Dr. Quinn, but it was always better to be sure. "Do you need me, for the reports?"

"Maybe it's rude to interrupt, but what's going on?" Victor asked, deciding on the direct approach.

Gar waited, but Rachel wasn't talking. "There was a- situation, last night. I was there for the end, after everything was set for the police." He wasn't going to make a slip if she didn't want anyone to know. He guessed that he wouldn't have known, if he hadn't been there. Rachel liked her secrets.

"I had a fan," Rachel said before anyone could find clues in Gar's vague account. "I went to the house, he started to scare me, I bashed him over the head, Gar came around, the police came, we all went home, and he's going to an insane asylum." With that many details out, the rest didn't really matter. "Gar helped me." It was a small admission. She didn't know why he blushed.

"The guy had a shrine to her- he knew her as Raven and Rachel, and knew more than at all necessary. She very neatly hit him, and I was just there for carrying things." Gar downplayed anything he had done- she had taken care of herself.

"He's in jail?" Victor asked, trying to make sense of the disjointed narrative.

"Yes," Barbara said. "Why?" she asked when he looked disappointed.

"I wouldn't mind a shot at any jerk who messes with Rachel." Victor didn't need any further explanations. Rachel kept her secrets, and Gar and Barbara seemed to know what was happening. He knew better than to push her- only Gar could get away with that, when Kori wasn't going to hear the story.

"I shouldn't have gone over there." Rachel looked at the group for a moment, changing her mind and the topic at once. "I'm going to go clear up a few things in my computer." She left, quickly- and Gar followed.

He paused before knocking on her door, giving the Titans a pointed look. He was not going to be pressured this time. Victor understood first, and Kori and Richard accompanied him to the hologym for a very loud and very engaging run. Barbara was still sorting through paperwork, but had calmed down enough that Alfred approached her with a cup of tea instead of coffee.

He rapped on the door twice. "Rachel? I know that you're not in the best of moods. You probably feel like a complete idiot about now- I think that feeling is pretty common, when someone you trusted turned out to be someone else entirely. I am willing to talk to a door for awhile, if you prefer. I won't take long."

She opened the door from him before pressing a key on her laptop, deleting a backlog of files. Rachel owed him a half-open door, at least, for not giving out details. _Maybe, if he can keep secrets- _she cut the thought away as her hand paused on the laptop. She left the screen showing. "I just deleted several items. I wanted them gone."

"I won't ask if you're okay. I know that you'll say that you're fine, and I know that you still need a little time to accept that someone betrayed you." Without people staring at him, without the threat of messing everything up- she was easy to talk to, especially when he had an idea of what to say.

"I shouldn't have gone to his house," she insisted, for lack of anything else to say.

"Okay, so you shouldn't have," he agreed. There. He had surprised her again- she hadn't planned for that response. Most times, he wondered if she planned what he would say two minutes in advance. "That doesn't mean that this mess is your fault." He continued before she could protest. "I trusted Tara, even when she was giving some weird signs- even after you knew that she had a nasty past with Slade. I should have stood up for you, when we were considering letting her onto the team."

"You have all the answers on trust, then."

He couldn't tell what she meant by that. Was she trying to be funny, cutting, or sarcastic? "No, but I'm summing up a month of what people have been telling me. I know that you're as bad as me, sometimes, for blaming yourself." She didn't need her own advice parroted back at her. That would just make her angry. "The Titans are worried about you, Rachel. I recall that someone refused to let me mope for too long. Do you want to join us for pizza, or do we all need to drag you to Angelina's?"

"I would prefer to be alone."

"That's the last thing you need. If it helps, Victor and I will call a truce," he said, making the second sentence comically serious.

"No carnivore fights?" she asked. If she had been the type, she would have smiled at his exaggerated look of defeat.

"There will be no arguments about eating meat. We might fight about video games, but it will save the usual ordering debate." Gar knew that Victor would agree- and that the debate would resume next time.

"Okay, fine." She shrugged on her coat and stepped out of her room. "Let's all go out to lunch." Rachel reached for a book, and her hand paused at it brushed against the leather binding. It was a little thick to go in her pocket, and it really wouldn't do to risk spilling pizza sauce. She left the book beside a closed laptop- maybe she could try talking with people, today. Talking was supposed to help, after all, and she knew at least one teammate would be willing to listen.

**.Bravery.**  
Rachel glanced at the grade on her biology test. Gar saw the red letter only because he had given himself excuses to watch her, just in case she was hiding signs that she really was still disturbed by events. The grade was not a good sign. He couldn't recall seeing an F on any of her other tests- she rarely went as low as an A-.

Gar checked the date on his test- last Tuesday, when Rachel had started acting oddly after lunch. Kori had confided last night that Rachel had made some sort of telephone call. Gar could guess what that had been. He knew what this meant.

He told the others he had to ask a teacher about something. If they had known his idea, they would have stopped him. It was undeniably the right thing to do. It was also a form of suicide, probably. Dr. Pamela Isley did not put much stock in the male half of the population to begin with, and Harley couldn't compensate for her partner this time.

Gar went into the room before he could think, carefully moving past rows of test tubes containing a few dozen experiments no student was allowed to touch. "Dr. Isley?" She answered from her attached greenhouse, an abrupt call of 'What? "It's about the test."

"You had an A." Pam remembered details, and could explain exactly why she had marked down his description of the phospholipid bilayer.

"Yes, but this is- this is actually about why Rachel didn't do well." Gar had to give some introduction before he said it.

"She didn't put you up to this." It wasn't technically a question, but she wasn't foolish enough to believe that she fully understood any teenager.

"She wouldn't. She doesn't know that I'm here." He took a final breath. Some things were just risky for a guy to admit to a feminist. "It's my fault."

"Hm?" That brought her from her green house, pruning shears absentmindedly in hand. "Why?"

"I said something that upset her during lunch. I've apologized since, and I talked to her for a while on Friday."

That brought a sharp look. "Friday, Harley heard of a deranged psychotic fan, by her estimation from a preliminary police report with the names blacked out. Coincidences involving your lot are very rare."

"She had talked to him through letters and such for months. Rachel took the guy out on her own. By the time I guessed something was wrong, she had him very neatly shoved in a closet."

Pam took a seat at her desk. This could be complicated. "So, she had a bad Friday."

"After I called her creepy on Tuesday," Gar agreed. Maybe there would be enough of him left that someone could identify the pieces- she had put down the pruning shears.

"Why would she take an adjective so harshly? I've heard far worse, in hallways and classes." Pam didn't mention subsequent dips in citizenship markings. She didn't like rude people.

"I don't know, really, but she talked to me Friday- after leaving a few bruises."

"You're telling me that you volunteered out of the goodness of your heart to talk to me?" Pam was skeptical. Bruce had muttered enough that she took her dislike for a dead joker out on every other male unfortunate enough to be in her company.

"Well, it's more like guilt, but yeah." Gar knew just how believable that sounded.

"You, Garfield Logan, are either brave or crazy. Judging by your hospital records and your hobby, I would guess both." She made her decision. "I'll keep Rachel during lunch tomorrow, and she'll have the choice to retake this."

"Thanks," he said, after a disbelieving pause. He hadn't thought his idea could work. Even if Pam seemed done, he guessed that she had something else to say.

"And, Gar- if I hear one rumor about you causing such a problem again, I won't touch your citizenship marks. I'll call Shelia."

Gar knew what his foster mother would have to say about that. "I understand."

"Don't look so threatened, Garfield. You're a nice enough male, I suppose, and I'm sure you wouldn't say that again. I just like to lay out consequences before they're needed. I would guess you're not looking for credit, with all the secrecy."

"No, I'm not."

"You're getting it," she informed him as she took a sip of lukewarm coffee.

"What?"

She smiled openly at the sudden panic, and motioned for him to take a seat. "Nice guys tend to overcompensate for their not-so-nice brethren by beating themselves up about occasional slips. You probably want to be an under the radar friend- but if you plan to date her, you better not."

"I- I am sure I do not know what you mean," Gar bluffed.

"I might not have a personal interest in men- but I can tell when a man is interested in a woman. Besides that, you are an absolutely abysmal liar. Go on over to Bruce's house- he still complains about teenagers invading his basement, but that's because he's a softie."

"Okay, okay- the biology teacher wins again, but I'm not an expert on this kind of thing."

"Relationships? No one is. Anyone who says otherwise is lying, because no two relationships are the same. This little conversation will not affect your grade," she said, abruptly changing the topic.

"I hoped so, Dr. Isley."

She smiled. "Get out of here. I can't start liking students. It will be bad for my reputation."

"Your reputation is safe with me," Gar promised before he could consider the risk. When she only laughed, he left feeling much more confused. He walked out of the school to find the Titans waiting for him. "I told you I'd walk home," he told them, taking a seat in the car.

"Kori saw you go into Dr. Isley's room, and she knew that you did fine on the last test," Victor explained.

"You understood notes today, as well." Kori knew that Dr. Isley did not welcome visitors.

"I talked to her about something else , ad she very kindly didn't kill me. She'll mention it tomorrow," Gar said, trying to not sound too awkward.

"You're not going to tell." Richard knew the signs.

"No, I don't think so." Gar wasn't lying, really. He would only tell one person, and he ignored ribbing to take his chance before she could sneak off to her room. "Rachel," he said. "I didn't tell details, but Isley has the general idea, and she knows it was partly my fault."

"No, it wasn't." Rachel wouldn't let him think that. "You are insane, to go to that audience."

"She'll let you take the retake tomorrow during lunch."

"Are you still blaming yourself?" Rachel asked, watching him pause before meeting her eyes. "Don't."

"I'll do it for as long as you blame yourself, Rachel. If you'll put the blame on the jerk responsible, so will I."

She smiled, even if her lips didn't move. "It's a deal." She still went back into her room, but that wasn't a threat. There was a promise made- and Rachel always kept her promises.

**.Old Scores.**  
Richard was an old guest at the Anders house. He had eventually convinced her reluctant parents that he wouldn't ravish her during the occasional visit to their house. This had taken a few awkward chaperoned visits, but it had worked. They had finally told the live-in maid that he was welcome. As a favor to the maid, he let himself into the house. There was no need to get Gloria to come answer the door.

He passed through the corridors, avoiding the grand staircase. The mirrored banister took forever to clean, so Kori always used the back stairs to save Gloria the work. He passed by the modern art, took the left at the vase that weighed more than he did, and picked up a book on the stairs. Kori could be absentminded, but he didn't mind. He actually liked that she didn't remember every stray detail, such as a book left about. It left more room for her to be spontaneous, and he remembered enough details for both of them.

He carried the book up to her room, trying to guess which language the book was in. As far as he could tell, it was not Chinese or French. Now that he knew Kori, he wished he had opted for Spanish as a high school class. French was a language she knew only a few words in. From the inside cover page depicting a lion, he guessed that it might be Swahili. By the time he deduced this, he was outside her door. Usually, he didn't knock. Usually, her door was open.

"Kori?"

"I'll be out in a minute," she said. "Don't come in." Her voice was muffled by the door, but that wasn't all of it.

"Are you decent?"

"What?"

He should have known she didn't know what that meant. "Are you wearing clothes?"

"Yes, but I will be out in a minute."

Richard guessed this was one of those times Alfred had mentioned, when the lady did not want to be listened to. "And I'll be in there in two seconds, Kori." He opened the door. For all that she'd said, she hadn't locked her door. He stepped into her room and set the book on the bookshelf, closed the door, and then took a second to take in the situation. Kori was sprawled half-on a low bed, face buried in the pillow. He wasn't an expert, but he had a guess what shaking shoulders like hers could mean. "Kori?"

"Go away." The words were meant to be an order, but her voice shook too much.

"You don't want me to do that," he said, testing Alfred's wisdom.

"I do too."

Now he was sure. "Kori, you're a wonderful person and a horrible liar." He sat on the bed. "And I'm not leaving. You'd do the same for me, and this time I can help you out." He had been fairly proud of that speech- but she only shook even more, and now he could hear sobs. "Kori, I don't know what to say to fix this. You're the one that's good with all this emotional stuff-" and there she went again.

"No, I am not."

"Okay, something's wrong." Richard couldn't remember what was supposed to happen. He didn't know how to put this delicately. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said.

It seemed very bad manners to pull her away from the pillow. Instead, he moved so that he was fully on her bed. If he was going to be there for a while, it made sense to not fall over. "Kori, you can trust me with this."

"Do you really want to know?" she asked after a minute. Her skin was flushed, but she had left melancholy for another mood. "I think you already do, Richard. You must know. This is all about me, and you, and a little part of history when you weren't you."

Wait- she was angry? "I never meant to hurt anyone, Kori. You know that, don't you?"

"I know it now, but did I know it then?"

She was looking at him again. If anyone could manage to kill with a glance, it would be her. "I wish I could have told you, Kori- I told you as soon as I could, and it'll never happen again. We worked out a few secret words, remember?"

"That's not what I'm talking about, Richard. Before you told us- I should have known."

"I don't get it, Kori."

"I didn't trust you, Richard. I should have."

"You mean- before you knew what was happening?"

"Yes," she said, anger wavering.

"That, Kori, is the most ridiculous thing I've heard all week. You didn't do anything wrong. And- you did trust me, remember? Because you believed in me- Kori, that kept me sane. I'm not going to let you think that you messed up somehow, because you are the closest to perfect I ever hope to see."

"I thought that you'd worked for Slade."

It seemed she was done being angry, but he wasn't going to let her be sad again. "I told you as much. You believed lies that I told you. I think we need to assign blame here to where it belongs." He reached out before she could duck away, taking her hand. He didn't want to force her into anything, but he was going to talk to her first. "Let's blame the bad guy here, okay? For once, it isn't me. I'm not going to let you step in and pretend it's all your fault. It isn't. Who's to blame?"

"I don't know-"

"Yes, you do," he insisted.

"The bad guy?"

It was close enough. "Yes. Am I the bad guy, in this case?"

"No."

"Are you?"

"No."

"So, if neither of us is at fault, we don't have to worry. And, next time we meet whoever is responsible, we'll both be there to attack. The next time you start blaming yourself- I don't know. If talking to me won't work, I'll have to go recruit Rachel. She doesn't like people mislaying blame, you know."

Kori smiled at that. "I'll keep that in mind, the next time you can't be talked around."

"You always manage to talk me around, Kori, and I hope you don't need to do that again any time soon. Do you- are you okay, now? I'm always convinced that I'm going to screw up, talking to you."

"You wouldn't," she said, gently pulling him closer until she could lean on his shoulder. "Maybe you would have tried, a few months ago, but you still couldn't mess up. I could tell what you meant."

"Maybe, or maybe not. I don't know if you've guessed something I've been meaning to tell you for a while."

"Oh?" she asked. He was rarely nervous, but his palms were confirmed sweaty when she put her hand in his. "What's that?"

"You know that-" he started. "I never have been good at this stuff, Kori, which is why it still amazes me you stick around with a guy like me. I know that I'd never have tried this, for anyone else, because I'm pretty sure every guy gets nervous when a girl was crying."

"I am sorry."

"No, no- it's okay, Kori. You don't need to apologize for _that-_ I mean, it was just a surprise, that's all, because you're the most optimistic of all of us."

She smiled at him, but did stifle a giggle. "You do not often ramble so, Richard."

"I don't often tell a girl that I love her."

"You- you do?"

He wished he had brought a mask. He was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to blush, after managing to butcher the phrase. "Yes." Forget it- he was going to say it properly, just like she deserved. "I love you, Kori."

"And I you, Richard." She didn't know if the smile would ever leave her face. He didn't blame her- and he had said that. "And I you." She could have said it so many languages- maybe he would have understood anyway, but it didn't matter. All she needed was three words.


	43. Status Quo, Revised

_On the surface, not much action happens in this chapter- but not all action is directly stated. The criminal atmosphere of Forston is about to change- and a few relationships are still changing. The action will pick up soon. Until then- Trigon's attentions will be kept on his own staff by a most unlikely advisor- and, for now, the Titans have to weather the calm before the storm. Part of the Treatment section was helped very much by dr.evil99 (and congrats to him for finishing his first big chapter project- _Paragon of Animals _on my favorites list, if you're curious). Here's a final warning for you- this chapter is a monster, length-wise. But, it might not end too badly- happy reading._

**Chapter Forty-three: Status Quo, Revised**  
There was something different in her home that Sunday afternoon, Rachel knew. She wasn't even in the main wing of the house before she noticed that something was wrong. It took her a moment to recognize just what was wrong. It was quiet.

It wasn't completely quiet, of course. The heating vents still purred, cars still pulled into the subterranean garage, and there were still a few muffled yells from the low receiving rooms audible as she took a back stairway. Strange silences were rarely a good sign, in this household. She passed Slade, noting from his posture that he was displeased about something. She didn't bother to ask him what was happening. She and Slade had never gotten along, and she had pulled rank on him. For the moment, at least, they ignored each other. Rachel had her first hint of what was different when she saw Jinx.

Jinx was beaming, and winked at her as she pointed to the kitchen. Bemused, Rachel decided to enter the room. She and Jinx had worked out a few simple just-in-case pieces of body language, to show that not all was right. Jinx had looked genuinely amused, which meant that something interesting was going on. Rachel convinced herself that nothing would surprise her, put her shoulders back, drew a deep breath- and walked into the kitchen to find something she had thought too outrageous to consider a possibility.

Angela Roth remembered what she had been wearing when she met the flirtatious young criminal. She intentionally created the effect again, wearing well-fitting jeans, her old urban cowgirl boots, and a long-sleeved shirt red enough to put a hydrant to shame. Angela had never been the most typical girl in high school, but she had held her own in contesting popularity with the cheerleading crowd. Years ago, a rich suburb of Forston had been known for its horse pasture. Angela had been known for liking horses. She never had one to call her own, and she was too tall to be a jockey.

That had left one job, one that often put her in contact with all the people that came by to bet money on the smaller horse-races. Money that changed hands at amateur races was rarely monitored by law enforcement. That left Angela in charge of the hamburger stand, but she didn't mind. That meant that she rang up each and every customer- and not all of them were hard on the eyes. She gave the politest ones a few tips about the horses that often paid out. One customer in particular was a regular- and, after one amazing run of bets, Trigon had asked her to come watch a race with him. After that day- she had never looked back, until now.

"Mother?" Rachel asked. 'Mom' was still an overly familiar term, but she was trying to get better.

"Good afternoon, Rae- did that husband of mine say when he'd be done collecting from that betting ring? I'm making hamburgers." And she was- Angela opened the oven door to check on the cooking meat before going back to slicing tomatoes and onions. "I know that I've been- different. I just remembered a few things, that's all."

"A few things?" Rachel asked dryly, leaning against the counter.

"Yes. I found a folder, looking through files in the kitchen- of all your report cards, back from kindergarten. Do you know that you have exemplary grades? You have one F total- that's for skipping, in kindergarten. I remember that gym teacher- that old tub of lard couldn't skip if his life depended on it. As for the rest- after second grade, your teachers started marking off 'social development.' Every last teacher wrote that you were too quiet, except when angry, and that you were too clever by far to be amused with elementary busywork. That made me remember why I had forgotten to be a mother for a long time- to save you heartache."

Rachel blinked. That was, without a doubt, the longest speech she had ever heard from her mother. "This seems- this is just so fast."

"I know, honey, but we've been building to this point for a long time," Angela said. "It started because my little girl was unhappy- but you do have friends now."

"You remember Victor, I know." Rachel thought for a minute. "And I know you've met Richard- Richard Grayson. His uncle Bruce Wayne handled our taxes long ago, when you brought me to the office- Richard was very different when he was little."

"What are your friends like now?"

"Victor's steady- even after the car accident, even with a fake leg, he's always reliable. He's dating Jinx. Richard's very mature, and very- oh, I don't know. It's hard to describe him, except that he's overly practical. Kori is just about the opposite of Richard- she's sunny, optimistic, and whimsical."

"That's three," Angela said, finding condiments in the refrigerator. "And someone used up all the mustard- that's the trouble with people forever being in and out of the kitchen. No one ever replaces things that are done. They'll know the numbers of fifty-eight different agents, but not to get another bottle of mustard or jar of pickle relish. We'll certainly manage, though. Trigon only ordered ketchup, every time."

"Well, there's Gar, too. He's- I don't know. He tries to be funny, and he usually isn't, but he's very nice. He's forever there for me, even when I don't want him to be."

Angela kept her opinions to herself, for the moment. "Are you going to see your friends tonight?"

"Well, I planned to, but I could stay-"

"Nonsense," Angela scolded, taking out two napkins and a pair of the gaudiest plates the mismatched cupboards offered. "Your father and I are going to have a talk about the state of affairs in this household. I know that you've been doing a little more- but if you don't like it, there's no reason. Even now- I'm going to establish a few rules for this kitchen, even if I have to live here for a week to enforce them. Drug deals are to be taken care of downstairs, and marijuana does _not _go in my freezer. We have illegal goods storage rooms."

Rachel blinked again. "Well, yes, but that would require a little common sense."

"I don't completely approve of this business- but it is a living, and it can be much more streamlined. Without even a basic sorting system, who knows how many people snitch off a few spare precious jewels or weapons or narcotics?" Angela explained her point as she found glasses to set on the table. "Trigon and I will have a very long talk tonight, but we'll be done by eleven. I'll wait up, so my daughter and I can have a talk." She smiled at Rachel's apparent shock. "I know, love. This is sudden- but I just realized that I've been letting my baby girl down, and that she needs me."

"You're here to stay, mom?"

"I'll be here for you as long as you need me," Angela said. "This will be hard, Rachel, and I know the plans for your big birthday." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I want you to run, if you have to. This isn't for you, honey- but I fell in love with your father, and it's about time I took an interest in what I got myself into. I made this bed, and I'll lie under the covers. Have a lovely time tonight, darling."

Rachel left for Richard's house after a quick hug, trying to figure out if this was like any dream that she had ever had. Finally, she knew it didn't matter. Who cared for the means? She had her mother back- and for one moment, she didn't need to hide a smile.

**.Pronouncements.**  
Jinx had to share news, even if she had to go without specifics. "Stone- pick up your cell."

"Jinx, you sound- happy," he said warily. He was driving to Richard's house, and Jinx's moods were often connected to odd events.

"My boss's boss- Trigon himself- is about to be less effective for at least a week. He had been avoiding this for a while, but the old controls are back in place. After all, there's only one way to control a big, powerful man in such a high place."

She was close to cackling, he decided. "Is it his wife or mother-in-law?" he asked.

"His wife," Jinx said. "You should see her- I've been waiting around, doing a few small tasks. She's already made a list of how to better run organized crime, right after she made hamburgers."

"Hamburgers?" Victor should have known to expect anything, but that just seemed excessive.

"It's how they met," Jinx explained. "The gang's been worried about her for a long while, since she used to keep him in check before something- well, we don't like talking about that, and we're not sure what happened. Only my boss has details on that, and getting information from one's boss can be tricky."

"Your mysterious boss, eh? What does he have to say about this?"

"He's happy. Trigon will be much busier, and he'll be able to keep track of imports. Once he starts to see profit figures go up, he'll realize just how many people have been stealing from him. Then, he'll start investigating internally, and all non-thieves will have much easier lives." Jinx was very happy with this. "And, as chief underling of Trigon's chief underling, I get easy work for awhile, that doesn't involve field jobs."

"So, Trigon is about to regain the attentions of his wife?"

"Yes, and this means that there shouldn't be too much trouble in town for a while. You're on a break- and I'll make sure to cause some internal trouble around the time of your mom's wedding, just to make sure no one crashes the party to hold it up for jewelry."

"Um- thanks?"

"It'll be my pleasure- some jerk over in accounting has been giving me a hard time, and I know for a fact that he's skimming. I just need to take time to collect enough information." Her voice was tight with anger. "This guy deserves a jail sentence, for what he tried to pull with a few ladies at HIVE. Tia stopped him, but he slithered out to a better place before the HIVE fell."

"You're okay, Jinx?"

"I'll be fine, Victor- stay nice, okay? I know you and the others have a pow-wow tonight- I'd check over by Thirteenth and Oak. A few idiots are considering graffiti, and they might try a mugging or six."

"Thanks, Jinx."

"Anytime, Stone- and no dying on me. I'm in a good mood, and I like having you around. I'll come find you tomorrow- you're free from school, right? I know my boss will find an excuse to spring me, if I need one."

"Right."

"It's a date, then- your place good?"

"It'll be fine, Jinx," he said. Victor wasn't surprised when she hung up quickly. She hated farewells, so she never said them. He was used to that, and he couldn't help but keep part of her good mood with him as he made his way into Richard's house and down the steps. He nearly crashed into Gar.

"Good news?" Gar asked.

"Jinx says that Trigon will be less of a nuisance for awhile- in-house politics shifted," Victor said. "This is straight from her boss- that guy said that things'll be a little less external for a week or so. Someone's straightening up house." Victor allowed himself a smug smile. "And, I have plans tomorrow- Jinx figures that she can take off, so we're going to spend the day together. She has said that her boss is easy-going about this stuff, so I guess I have him to thank."

Rachel tapped Victor on the shoulder. "I hate to interrupt whatever's going on, but you're blocking off the stairs and I'd like to get into the basement."

"You, too?" Gar asked. He clarified when two friends looked puzzled. "You're both in good moods."

"Is there something wrong with that?" Rachel asked as Victor stepped aside.

"No, and I didn't imply that at all."

She looked at Gar for a minute. "You're not in a very good mood."

Victor moved out of the stairway. Richard, for once, was late to practice- and he was arriving with a beaming Kori. Victor looked from one to the other. There was only one known reason he knew of that could make a couple look just that soppy, but he led in easy. "You two certainly look happy."

"We are," Kori said, choosing to not reclaim the arm that wound around Richard.

"Any particular reason?" Gar asked. Kori looked just about ready to burst, so he guessed that they wanted to share.

Kori nudged Richard. "I think that you would proclaim this news better."

"Uh uh, Kori- I think you would be far better at this. Besides- I said it to you, didn't I?"

"All the more reason that you should announce it here," Kori said. "Besides, I am not familiar with the idiomatic expressions appropriate for this situation that are used in this area."

"Kori, if you can manage phrases like 'idiomatic expressions,' I think you're just stalling. Besides, this isn't very hard to say. I managed and only felt like I might have ruined everything for a minute."

"Fine, I'll tell them," Kori said.

Victor watched the two. "You two are obviously going to be flirting for awhile. If we're not leaving for patrol for at least have an hour, I'll leave you two lovebirds to it and call Jinx." He watched Kori's face light up at the syllable- well, this was more serious than he had guessed.

"I think they're in love," Rachel said dryly. Kori and Richard both had forgotten the importance of informing their other friends. Kori did give a thumbs-up before going back to kissing Richard. Rachel watched for a moment as the two maneuvered over to a chair. "I think I'll go somewhere else, now." She was hardly going to admit that she was jealous, or that she wished someone wanted to kiss _her. _

"Well, there is an advantage- Richard didn't even suggest training," Gar said. "This means that we can stick to logical schedules."

"Do we still have logic left as an option?" Rachel asked. "Victor's obviously leaving this talk to me, for reasons of his own- wait, he's calling Jinx, and I'm the only Titan single enough to have time to get you to open up. Something is bothering you. I'll be friendly and even ask what's wrong, instead of just submitting a request in writing for what's eating you."

"It's nothing, just-"

"If there is an 'it' to be dealt with, 'it' is obviously something. I'm trying to be friendly here. I'm a little out of practice. Don't make me lose my patience."

He shrugged. "I just talked to my mom. The hospital had to reschedule her for tomorrow, since one of the kids in the pediatric oncology ward needs an emergency surgery in the morning that should last clear through the afternoon. My dad's in LA, for a cars conference, and I don't want him to come home early for no good reason."

She pulled two chairs out from the table and sat in one. Something told her this was overly complicated, and that it could be straightened out. "So, what's bothering you?"

"I need a ride over to the hospital tomorrow. Victor's busy, Kori can't drive, and Richard's obviously spending his day with Kori."

"Oh," she said, suddenly uncomfortable. Was she- no, that couldn't be it. Rachel would not let herself feel that from a simple encounter- except that she was hurt. There was nothing wrong with feeling emotions, as long as she didn't show them. "You still need to find a ride for tomorrow, then, since your parents aren't available?"

"Yes."

"If you want me to provide chauffeuring services, I'm not doing anything tomorrow. Even if I was, I still would make time. If you didn't want to ask me, you could call a taxi service and write that off as a medical expense." Rae pushed back from the table. Yes, she was hurt. No, that didn't mean she had to go cry. She could try Richard's method of dealing with frustration. No one else was using the gym, and meditation would only make her focus on what this feeling was. The speedbag would just have to deal with a few injuries. It didn't bruise.

"You- you really would take me?"

"Yes," she said crossly. "I just wish that you'd ask me, instead of listing why everyone else you consider friend or family can't do it. I would assume you're due for chemotherapy, since you haven't shown any signs of a relapse and you're clever enough to not put everyone through that twice. I know that you could be in the hospital for a few hours. If you don't want anyone to go with you, I'll drop you off and pick you up."

"You don't have to."

That was enough. "What is your problem?" she asked. "I am offering to do this. You didn't even have to bring yourself to ask. Do I have to ask you if I can come along or something? I thought we've been over this, Gar. We're friends. Friends help each other. Friends usually enjoy each other's company."

"Maybe I don't want to ask too much of you," he returned. He didn't know why she was so defensive. When he had met her, she had certainly not been Miss Sunshine. He had been lucky to get three non-insults out of her a week. "Sure, we're friends- but we're not exactly typical. Do you really expect the typical to just snap into place and work?"

"Maybe I'd like to try- even if going to chemo with a friend isn't normal, I want to be there for you." She was too frustrated to converse sensibly. She stood and turned away, but not even a few deep breaths could sooth ruffled emotions.

Wait a second- she was mad at him. "Rachel, I don't want to push you. I've been pushing you too far, and I know you like your space. I know that you don't mean every insult you make- but with the amount, a guy can't help but think you wouldn't be thrilled to spend a few hours in his company. I don't want you to do this because it's some obligation. If all else fails, I can sit around the hospital for awhile."

"Maybe I don't know what else to say. You can be just as bad, Garfield Logan. You joke and say something that just _might _be flirting or a compliment- but you joke so that people like you, and you never stay serious because you're still wary of even committing to friendship. You're not leaving. This city is your home. I can't be the friend you might just remember- I know that you're my friend. I need to know that you believe that you'll stay here."

"You certainly do a number on your friends, Rachel Roth. You purposely hide your moods, you're the most secretive girl I've ever met, and sometimes we drive each other nuts- but, if I ever had to leave- I'd come back, and I only didn't ask because the thought of being rejected is pretty scary. I don't want to move too fast."

"You know I'll say yes," she said, much more quietly. She hadn't realized that she had been yelling, not that anyone else noticed- Victor was still talking to Jinx. "Go on, ask me."

"Rachel, would you like to go to the hospital to be bored out of your wits for an hour or three?"

She shook her head at his way of putting things, but she had an amused cast to her eyes. "Yes. When do I pick you up?" she asked, wondering if this was what people said when agreeing to a date. This wasn't a date, of course. She was taking a friend to chemo. That was not romantic. This was just common courtesy.

"Um- ten thirty," he said uncomfortably. This was not normal. There was no way that he could get advice on this without admitting a few incriminating facts. He had known for a long time- but he wanted to think of Rachel of more than a friend, and knew that she had no track record at all involving guys. If he asked and she said no- that would change the team, all because he had tried something he knew better about.

"So, you should be done about noon- I'll hold you to an eight-hour minimum rest, you know." Rachel kept old promises.

"I know," he said with a lopsided grin. He didn't mind- but maybe she didn't want to know that he wouldn't mind having her fuss over him. "I'll be good."

If she wanted, she could make that sly little remark flirtatious- he certainly had intended mischief, with the way he was smirking. She leaned back slightly, away from the smug smile. For a moment, she knew exactly what she could imply- but it passed, and she turned away just a fraction of a degree. It was enough. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, then." And she was gone to her room, where she closed the door before berating herself for letting that connection slip away.

He watched her go. He hadn't gone too far, this time, and they both knew it. He had left his remark perfectly ambiguous- if she wanted, it was double entendre. When she left, that just was a sign that she wasn't interested- for now. But, as he recalled, she could return insinuations with the best of them. All he had to do was wait until she was ready- no second meaning intended.

**.Treatment.**  
She didn't like waiting rooms. Gar realized this very quickly. She had been fine when she picked him up, had rolled her eyes in what he liked to think an appreciative fashion at the few jokes he cracked, and had pulled into the parking lot carefully in her dented old car. She had started to look around the room even while he signed a few papers at the receptionists' desk, and was pacing in brief bursts before five minutes had passed. He watched as she made two neat circuits of the badly decorated room before sitting down.

"It won't be long," he said, just to break the silence.

"Waiting rooms make me nervous," she said shortly. However curt her words were, she was offering an explanation. "I wasn't very happy the last two times I was here- and the last time was far from the worst." Rachel hadn't worried too much about visiting Tara. She had been too angry to feel anything but shock that the traitor was still alive, still comatose, still pretty- in a twiggy way that Rachel was perversely glad looked silly against hospital sheets, without the big blue eyes to add to the picture.

"This won't be as dramatic."

"I hope so. The team has enough drama." Rachel was standing before the approaching nurse could say 'Garfield Logan.' "Ready?"

"This is an old deal. It's getting home that's harder," he admitted.

"We can fuss about that later."

The nurse looked from Gar to his friend. She had been on the staff for two years, and had known Gar for the months that he'd been treated there. "Gar, are you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"Um- Rachel, this is Francis. Francis, this is my friend Rachel." He couldn't emphasize 'friend' too much without offending Rachel, but he didn't need to make her defensive.

The nurse, luckily, was not far removed from teenage years. "I know Kozlowski encourages guests during chemo. Morale boosts and all that- if neither of your minds, of course." As expected, they didn't mind, but they both were careful to not seem too eager. "You'll only be here today for about an hour, Gar, and you know the side effects better than I do." She led them to a treating room. "I'll be back in a moment- I just need the IV lines."

"You do want me to stay?" Rachel asked before the nurse could return.

"If you want."

"This isn't about me. If you want me to stay, I will. It's that easy." Rachel eyed the chair beside his. It looked a little close, but she was here for moral support. She wasn't going to pull away.

"If-"

"No 'ifs.' Yes or no- and you can stop feeling guilty or noble or whatever your reason is for not giving a straight answer." Rachel wasn't going to guess.

"Yes," he said simply.

She felt that she should smile, but it was a forgotten habit. Instead, she took a seat while the nurse briskly recorded Gar's height and weight, adding figures to rows of data. "I'm a little new at this, and nothing online was very helpful."

"I have a plain IV drip. That'll be in for about an hour, and then some nurse or other wheels me out to the car. This hospital is pretty scared of lawyers, and kids with cancer are known to milk a jury pretty well."

Francis grinned at that statement. "Especially kids with mystery benefactors- you've fueled office gossip for months. Now, which arm- yes, you're in the right spot. Just stay on his left please, Miss Rachel. Rachel, have you ever been to someone else's chemo before?"

"I've never seen chemotherapy, personally."

"You have an easy job. Gar's good about getting needles and such and he had lovely big veins- yes, Gar, I'm complimenting your veins. Again. You would, too, if you tried to find these things with a needle- it's easy. Anyway, Rachel- you're here for emotional support and to drive him home. He can tell you how much help he'll need."

Rachel nodded. "It's only fair. I was bleeding all over him in January, after I bumped into something." It probably wouldn't be a good idea to mention bullet wounds- but Gar would catch the reference.

"Blood?" Francis smiled. "Gar, you can't even watch your arm go into the sampling vials," she said after taking his blood pressure. "124 over 72- very nice. Your pulse is normal, your breathing is fine, and I still need the blood sample."

Gar very carefully looked away. "She never said I was completely calm about the idea," he grumbled. "And it isn't the blood, as much as watching the vials swirl it around- and that's supposed to stay inside the body," he said, looking a little green from just one glance.

Rachel felt a headache coming on. "You have a strong aversion to blood."

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you let someone else help me stagger out of there to go get help?" she demanded. "I know I ruined your shirt, with all that blood."

"Rachel, do we really have to talk about blood?" he asked while the nurse slipped the IV of drugs into place. "Looking at it is bad enough. Getting it on me is worse. But discussing it- not necessary."

Rachel rolled her eyes, the only fitting response. "You, Logan, have severe mental problems that you should be treated for. Besides that- we're here for an hour, and you look exhausted."

"It's hard to sleep, sometimes," Gar said. "Side effects of a few medications and so on- and yes, Fran, that is in my paperwork," he added.

"So nap now," Rachel said, eyeing the way he kept slumping forwards. He was ready to sleep. "I'll just sit here for awhile, and wake you up when it's time to leave. Then, you don't have to stare at the needle in your arm for an hour."

"Are you sure?" he asked with a yawn.

"Positive. You can hardly be an interesting conversationalist when you're this tired- and if you want to come out with the group tonight, you better be awake. Nap while you can." The allusion to Titans convinced him, and he grinned at her through a very wide yawn. Rachel had never before had such a clear view of his molars- well, if she was considering dentistry as a career, she would be impressed. As it was- the nurse showed no intention of leaving.

"Rachel, is it? Would it interest you to know what that boy's said about you?"

Rachel slipped her hand into Gar's. He was asleep- he had to be, to slowly close his hand around hers without sweating palms. She was just as nervous as he was, most times, but her palms at least stayed dry. "What do you want in return?"

"Oh, so you know how this works- well, I just want to hear about a few events he's spoken of. Dr. Pamela Isley runs research at this hospital sometimes, and Isley herself said something about this boy coming and talking to her on the behalf of some good friend of his called Rachel. That is martyr behavior, right there- Pam isn't nice to residents even with seniority, and she's not even a doctor here. I don't know what she'd do with her students."

Rachel extended her other hand. "A story for a story, then." They shook on the arrangement, just to be formal. "Now, I remember that very clearly- it only started six days ago, after all…"

Gar woke up to hear Francis giggling. That was enough to start him into full awareness. Giggling nurses were terrifying, because it meant they had learned something good. He checked his arm- the IV was out, the inside of his elbow was neatly bandaged, and Rachel's hand was in his left. She pulled away slowly, once she saw he was awake, and finished telling the story about the wedding they all were going to. "What'd I miss?" he asked.

Rachel gave her most innocent look, and he felt the cold stirrings of doom. "Oh, not much- Fran and I were just bonding a little. I'll tell you about it sometime. For now, it's time to get you home."

He knew what that meant. Rachel and the nurse had traded the best secrets they knew about him. Rachel's best stories involved the Titans- but that didn't mean they were exempt. If anyone could twist them around, he'd bet Rachel had contorted them to be fully embarrassing. He only sulked a little while Fran eased him into a wheelchair- and was very surprised to hear that Rachel would wheel him outside.

"She must like you," he said, surprised. Nurses usually did not ignore protocol.

She shrugged placidly. "We get along. She's sending a striper to pick up the chair- it's the only medical thing they're good for, after all."

"So, you basically blasted candy-stripers, the bad nurses, incompetent doctors, and the administration when not talking about me," he said.

She thought for a moment. "Yes. I take it you've talked to her quite a few times, with how much she knows about you and getting blood drawn. She told me the most fascinating story about an August visit. . ."

"She did not."

Rachel waved to the receptionist as they left. "Oh, she did," she said with what could have been a smirk. "About how a certain new patient, pleasant as can be and with a never-ending stream of jokes, some decent and some otherwise, nearly swooned at the sight of his blood being drawn- and after looking at the bags for a nearby transfusion, promptly fainted."

"Earth to Rae- guys do not faint. They pass out."

"First, it's Rachel. Second, you fainted. Third- we're at the car. Do your legs work yet? Fran said that you're on a heavier dose today," Rachel said uncertainly.

"I did not faint," he argued. "And my legs recover eventually, but probably not for another few minutes."

"We don't have another few minutes. A candy-striper is coming this way, and I want to avoid her. With all the training we've been doing, I think I can lift one scrawny teammate two feet."

"Scrawny?" he said indignantly. "I'll have you know that I'm- um, what's a nicer word?"

"Svelte?" she suggested.

"That works."

Rae decided that she wanted to be in her car by the time the recognized cheerleader and candy-striper made it out to the parking lot. "Here- up with your left arm, your legs aren't sore, and-" She had braced herself for lifting him. She set him in the seat before glaring at him. "Okay, I'm not a heavyweight champion. Carting you around is easy. I think you need to start eating real food."

"Do you mean hamburgers? I'll pass."

"What's wrong with hamburgers?" she asked, closing the door quickly and darting over to the driver's side. She let out a sigh of relief once safely inside the car, and treated the trailing candy-striper with a free glare.

"That's not on the approved diet. I have enough issues digesting natural stuff like tofu. Meat- well, let's just say that it's not worth it. Milk is bad, but, for no apparent reason, yogurt and cheese are recommended. Whoever created chemo was probably experimenting with the drugs when he wrote the diet."

She was still looking at him about eight seconds later. Given her usual fast responses, he shifted a little. "What?"

"You mean that eating meat would mess up your digestive track. That's why you don't eat it."

"Um- yes?" he said.

"And we've been having the He-Men Carnivore verses Herbivore Tournament for six months without reason?" She shook her head. Sometimes, it was easier to just blame the testosterone levels. She didn't want to understand that. "Do you want me to help with the seatbelt?"

"I think I can manage," he said shortly.

She had been fiddling with her driver's side mirror. "I'm not trying to be difficult, or to mess with that growth called an ego. All I know is that you just had chemo, I don't know what you need help with, I know you won't ask me for help with stuff like that, and you've been grimacing a little whenever you move your right arm." That was enough. He was not going to bait her, today of all days. Instead, she put on her own seatbelt brusquely, turned her keys in the ignition, and backed out of her parking space.

He spoke again when she had carefully pulled out. He knew that she didn't need to take that long to back out of a space- but she had left him plenty of time to pull the seatbelt across with his left hand. "I'm sorry, Rachel- it just means so much that you'd stay with me today, and I'm always in a bad mood after chemo. That's half the reason I didn't want to ask you. I'm hard enough to deal with on a good day."

"You tell me to not worry about my problems- and you deserve days where you don't have to be the optimist." She couldn't manage to keep a positive attitude for long. She rarely saw him anything but cheerful- he was just as bad as Kori. "You need to get rid of the idea that I'm just putting up with you to- to be some kind of philanthropist. Have I tried to kill you yet?"

"No, and I appreciate that- it's just hard," he said after a few turns. She was a careful driver, but she expected a lot out of her little car. She braked hard, turned fast, and took corners very closely- but she always ended up safe. "I'm just used to the foster care system, the pass-the-kid method. I've been lucky that the current fosters put up with me and all my money problems.

"They seem to be managing- and they're crazy about their son. You have some parents there, Gar," she said steadily, glancing at him with the excuse of checking the passenger-side mirror. "You're not going anywhere. Did you know that Wayne has a few ties in the foster system, since he officially took Richard in as a ward? He talked to your social worker. You have a lot of people who want you to stay right here, in Forston." It was better to not bring up whoever it was that paid his medical bills- it seemed that a small clause in a short agreement stated that all treatments must happen in the city. Francis had been more than happy to chat about the news.

Gar was lost for words. He tried to not get attached to people or places- but this time, the attachment went both ways. He bit his lip for a moment, wondering why she always knew just what to say. "I- I don't know what to say," he said quietly.

She pulled in front of his house, ending the short drive. She hadn't thought that he listened to her that closely- but maybe he always did hear what she said. "Sometimes, you don't need to say anything." Before she could think better of the action, she put her arm around his shoulders- from the way he leaned against her, he didn't mind.

He hadn't known that Rachel did public displays of affection. There had been that hug- he never would forget that- but he had very firmly told himself that _that _little incident had been a fluke. He grinned at her when she pulled away. "Don't worry, Rachel. Your reputation's safe with me."

She socked him in the arm. He was sitting on her right, so she wouldn't touch the sore arm. "Dramatics- and my reputation better be safe, because I'll know exactly who made it unsafe." She let herself out of the car and walked around the back, to give herself an unseen moment to take a deep breath. _Relax. He's coming home from chemo. He does not need to deal with the lady with the can't-stand-him volunteers-to-spend time with him complex. _Rachel knew very well that her complex was of the entirely different sort, but she didn't need to admit as much.

She opened his door. "What do you need me to do?" she asked briskly. Asking the usual way made him defensive- she could understand that. She hated having to depend on someone. Maybe businesslike was the way to do it, just like a practiced nurse- she could pretend experience for awhile.

"I just need a hand to help me get on my feet." He took her hand. So, she hadn't been exaggerating- it was very easy for her to pull him out of the car. For one glorious moment, he was standing on his own two feet right after chemo- and then, reality reasserted himself, and he tilted left. He grabbed onto the car with his left arm when his legs shifted beneath him.

"Okay, so maybe I still can't walk away from chemo."

She gave him a doubtful look. His legs were still awry, the extra height of the curb let him hold onto the top molding of the car, and he looked more than a little shaky. "Let's not do that again." She put right arm around his back, just under his shoulders. It was easier to ask forgiveness than permission- and she wasn't asking forgiveness. If he was going to be macho, she'd head him off by being bossy before he could do some damage to himself. It'd make him feel worse, if he really fell. "Left arm around me, please- you keep claiming I'd make a good doctor. Listen to medical advice."

"Okay, doc- and isn't the hero supposed to help the damsel?"

She fixed him with a grade-three skeptical stare. "We're both costumed vigilantes, when we don't have too much homework. I think conventions are officially out the window. Now, hero, we're crossing the lawn, going up the stairs, getting through the door with your key, and then. . ."

"Crashing on the couch, for me."

"The one just right of the door?" Rachel asked.

"That's the only couch we have-"

"I'm checking details- and don't you dare apologize," she said when he opened his mouth with a decidedly conciliatory look on his face. "I'm grouchy enough for both of us, most days. Take your turn to be the moody one."

He wasn't quite sure how they made it across the lawn. He felt the tell-tale waves of nausea just after Rachel took the key from him, and concentrated on deep breaths even after he felt himself cross a lawn, climb stairs, and sit slowly on a couch. He opened his eyes half-way. "That wasn't so bad, see?"

"It's half past twelve. If you want to patrol at all, I expect to see you resting," she said as she took a seat on the couch. She set a ginger ale on the coffee table. "Apparently, this stuff is good for chemo patients- I'd think that it was toxic, but your mom left a note out. If you feel like waking up- drink time."

"Goodbye, then," he said drowsily.

"Who said I'm leaving?" she asked, producing a book. She smiled a touch at his confused look. "You were out for a few minutes. I brought books in the car. I am staying around until your mother is safely home, just to make sure you're behaving yourself." She knew that he wouldn't mind- and Shelia had said that staying would be a very good idea.

"I already said I'd be good," he said with a yawn. That was not at all fair of her, to start a battle of wits when he was half asleep.

"Maybe your definition of good is a little different than mine." She tucked a blanket around him. "And even if you're completely back to normal by tonight- I'll watch your back."

"Only if I can watch yours."

Was he implying- he was. Gar was smirking. That meant that he knew _exactly _what he had just said. "You'll watch my back, huh?" She rose and took a step forward, plucking something from the ground. She looked at him for a long moment and waited for him to gulp- it was only right to keep him nervous after a remark like that. Rachel buffeted his legs- lightly. "You're lucky that I'm being nice to you today, cancer-boy- tomorrow, I won't let you off so easily." He was asleep before he could think of a good retort, but she knew he had heard her.

Rachel took back her seat at the other end of the couch. She paused just a moment before looking down to her book. He still was smiling a little, but the self-satisfaction of the smirk was past. She very carefully prodded at his hand. He groggily moved away, but he was completely asleep. "You know, Gar- you're kind of cute when you're asleep." She cracked her book open and looked at him again- still asleep. He wasn't a good enough liar to stay completely still- he hadn't heard her. She was reading before she could realize just exactly what she had said- and that she had kind of wanted him to hear her.

But- only to see the look on his face, of course. That was the only reason. Rachel was busily reading before she could figure out that she was lying to herself. Maybe things should go back to the way they were, before she had openly returned the kind of banter. She snuck a glance to her right, one more time- well, maybe she'd just have a different kind of friendship. _Yes, friendship, _she told herself firmly. _Friends go to someone else's chemo and deal with crazy stalkers. We're just- close friends, that's all. Nothing to be bothered about. _Rachel was no acolyte to lying. She had hidden her father's identity for years. Keeping something as minor as a crush secret should be easy.

Rachel blushed, even with no one to see- well, she certainly wasn't doing very well in lying to herself. Maybe her friends would be a little harder to trick- but she doubted it. _Sometime, I'm going to have a talking with the dratted emotions behind this. What part of teenagers don't need extra drama don't they understand? _She sighed when there wasn't an answer- well, obvoiusly her emotions wouldn't confess. That left talking to herself, her friends, Gar- or ignoring the troublesome new problems and going back to the dilemmas of Jane Austen's characters.

Rachel was very happily reading about Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy less than a minute later. Some choices were just obvious.


	44. A Run of Good Luck

_Any delays in posting can be blamed on some combination of homework, studying for tests, doing chores, tutoring a few elementary kiddies about bugs, having difficulties in altering a few events after the plot was changed, and working on the musical. The last is the most likely, since I'm working on _Oliver! _four and a half hours a day, and that's just at rehearsal. But, it does make sense- at the time this was posted, it was six days to curtain and Dots was not foremost in a first-time lead's mind. (Giving rather neurotic author-wannabes lead roles in musicalsdoes odd things to their eccentricities.) I don't expect to have another chapter up before curtain, but this story is far from being over. Just to repeat the usual disclaimer that can be assumed for the entire story: I do not own the Teen Titans, or Jell-O._

**Chapter Forty-four: A Run of Good Luck**  
"So, basically, we're talking very little gang activity until Sunday," Victor said, trying to sort out facts. Jinx had very happily announced that Trigon was suitably distracted, but he wanted a little clarification.

"Yes," Jinx said. She was beaming. "I listened in, last night. Trigon had a talking-to you wouldn't believe. For the next week, every last employee that doesn't have the personal approval of a new power in Forston is going to be on their toes. That means that there aren't many people at ease."

"I take it you're one of them," he said.

"Naturally- what high-level powerhouse of authority wouldn't just love to have little old me around? Don't answer that." She paused, trying to find the right words. Rachel still insisted that the Titans shouldn't know. Jinx understood the idea, but the theatrics that usually accompanied a serious talk were a bit much. Jinx was a criminal. Only Richard still twitched a little when he looked at her, but he was the suspicious sort- and he had heard that she knew about a certain Red X. "Trigon's reorganizing his operation."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Reorganization? It won't help or hurt your team, Stone. This is internal stuff. If you do run into a fight, I'd be surprised- just think of this as a break while the gangs get ready." Jinx fumbled for words, again- she really did not like this idea of Rachel's, but she wasn't going to pop a secret that big. Besides the fact that she worked for Rachel- Jinx was not going to be any more involved in the revelation than she had to. That was a Titans-only moment- especially since she had known exactly whose daughter dear Raven was for years.

"So, after this Sunday, it'll be a madhouse."

"Not a madhouse- more like a . . . mess," Jinx said thoughtfully. "My boss is going to share power with Trigon- it's an unusual arrangement. My boss isn't interested in power- don't look at me like that, it's the truth- and Trigon finds security in that. Starting in March, he's going to be pulling in foreign heads of operations. Madame Rouge and such- she's in Russia. She's French, originally, but she's been up in the land of snow and vodka for a long time. She's lugging Brain and Mallah over here with her."

"I think I've heard of Rouge," Victor said mildly. "She's pretty famous in news broadcasts. She's a big name- behind lots of murders, kidnappings, the usual."

"She's very high in Trigon's share of Russia's organized crime. She is the contact for narcotics, hallucinogenics, alcohol, weapons, and money-laundering. Brain doesn't come up much- I'm not sure of his real name. He runs day-to-day under Rouge. Imagine a dork. Pocket-protectors, bent glasses, twiggy frame- the whole deal. He has a double-holster that holds a graphing calculator and a gun. Brain runs tactics and strategy. Mallah is pure muscle- not much in the brains department, but he's huge. He fights well enough to be a bodyguard, and is just dim enough to be trusted with a few big orders," Jinx said.

"I feel like I should be taking notes."

"I can give the spiel to your group, if you want- or you could ask Rae-Rae for a few details. Except- I wouldn't call her that. She tolerates Rae from one person on the planet. Rae-Rae is somewhere that even people who could beat her in a fight hesitate to go."

"Someone calls her Rae?" Victor asked.

She should have known there was a problem with the boy- good-looking, charismatic, polite, fighter, superb listener. The last was the issue- she liked talking to him, and then she forgot a few careful lies. "I think you know that I've met her folks. I don't talk about that. Rachel wouldn't want me to."

"I know- but can I just ask you something? I know her dad's not right, but does she have at least one good parent?"

"Her mom was- in denial for a time, I guess. I don't know what else to call it- and it's not like I know that much," Jinx said. It was partly true. She had only known intimate details for two months. "She's shaping up, though. Rachel has her mom back." Victor wasn't the paranoid sort- but Jinx would be careful not to let Richard know about too many coincidences.

"Gar said he'd call me," Victor said, changing the subject. Jinx looked ready to drop the matter. They'd spent the day people-watching at the mall, after sitting through a horrible movie they happily ripped apart. "He had to go into the hospital this morning."

"Oh?" Jinx said, pretending a touch of interest.

Victor knew that was the most he would get. Jinx didn't like to look too interested in anything. "Rachel took him. If he's showing up for patrol, he better have been resting- Rachel's designated herself the one to bother him about taking care of himself and resting properly."

"Are you going to call him?" Jinx asked, interested. If Victor used the communicator, Jinx would be very happy to talk to Gar. An opportunity to hear someone else talk about Rachel was always fun- especially when she could bother someone. If Gar didn't have a crush on Rachel, Jinx would apologize for a few snide comments made to Rachel. Jinx hated apologies.

"I might as well," Victor said. "If he's not showing up, the rest of us will have to decide if we're going without him- from what you said, it'll be a slow night." He didn't want to wake Gar up, if he was sleeping- but there was one way to find out.

Gar groggily sat up when his communicator rang, answering as he yawned. "Hello?"

"Okay, I guess you were asleep," Victor said. "It's half past eight, so this would be about time to wake up anyway. Are you up for patrolling? Because if you aren't, I'll just hang around my place with Jinx."

She waved. "Hi, Gar. You look greener than usual."

"Friendly," he grumbled, but he was smiling a little as he rubbed his eyes. "I don't know about today. I'll be up for tomorrow, but-"

"Don't even think about feeling bad about calling off. I'll tell Rachel on you."

It was dark in the room, even with the curtains on the front window open. That was Gar's best explanation for how he could have missed her. "Okay- one, you wouldn't have to call her up. Two, don't talk too loud."

"What?" Victor asked, trying to make out the dark image on the communicator.

Jinx saw a book. "That's a pretty thick story- and I'll guess that Rachel's asleep, if she looks that sprawled over. If she's awake, she tends to have much better posture. If you ever see her slouching, there are really two possibilities. She's either that relaxed around you- or you better be ready to comfort or run."

"She stayed over?" Victor asked.

"Well, it looks like it- I just woke up," Gar said, remembering what Jinx had said. It never hurt to have a little information about Rachel's moods. "I think the drugs were worse than usual, today. Besides being completely tired- I don't think I remember a few details right."

"Make-out session?" Jinx asked idly, dodging a slow elbow from Victor. He was just jealous that he couldn't dead-pan that.

"No!" Gar protested. He paused, considering- she wasn't going to be happy without some sort of explanation. "Just- flirting."

"Flirting-flirting or it-might-have-been-flirting?" Jinx asked, unimpressed. Victor had figured out that she was the girl getting results. She could take over interrogations.

"Flirting-flirting."

"Oh?"

Victor knew that Gar wasn't used to Jinx's cool looks. Raised eyebrows were a sign that Jinx was impressed- but she still managed to look fully disdainful. "I don't need details," she said. "Second-hand romantic diatribe is never as amusing- but did the lady in question admit it was flirting?"

"Yes."

"Did she return it?" Jinx watched as her victim squirmed, just a touch. "I thought so. Victor, we have ourselves an infatuation,at the least. So, Gar," she said, changing subjects very quickly, "when are you going to ask her out?"

"What?"

"Do I need to use smaller words?" Jinx asked. "I prefer intelligent conversation, but I did deal with Mammoth for a few years- if necessary, I can reduce banter to monosyballic commands."

"No, I just- haven't thought of it."

"Liar," she said with a smile.

"Well, would you be able to ask her out?" he whispered urgently, very conscious that Rachel was very near.

Jinx considered the idea. "She's a nice girl, for all that she puffs out her feathers and tries to be scary whenever someone figures out that she isn't a demon- but she's really not my type. I mean, if I liked girls that way- we'd have been together for years. As it is, I'd just be playing with her heart."

Victor couldn't help but laugh at that. "Jinx, don't tease him so much- he's too worn out to retort properly."

"Hm- a worn out guy who just spent all day with a rather spent girl . . ." Jinx mused, keeping her face impassive as Gar colored. "But- I don't think so. I don't think she would still have the book, for one- well, she is pretty attached to her books, but to that extent? That's just a little odd, you know, but I suppose it might be possible to keep hold of a book if she was really determined. . ."

"Okay, Jinx- he's already red. We don't need to see Gar go to vermilion."

"Victor, you're supposed to protect friends from a vicious girlfriend," Gar admonished. "I mean, if Rachel were awake-" He froze when she moved just a little, yawning. "Um, speaking of that, hi, Rachel," he said awkwardly.

She blinked away sleep in a minute, keeping quiet until she remembered exactly what was happening. "Hello, Gar." She looked at the communicator. "And Victor and Jinx- charming. Three people staring at me while I'm waking up- just what a girl wants."

"I didn't think you'd stay," Gar said.

"I wasn't planning on staying long, to tell the truth," Rachel said. "I was just going to stick around to make sure that you were fine on your own, but your house is a lot calmer than mine. I finally finished the infernal book."

"Infernal?" Jinx asked. "Which one would this be? _Divine Comedy?_"

"No, _Pride and Prejudice." _

"No wonder you found it horrid," Jinx said with a straight face. Not even Rachel and Victor could always tell when she was joking. "Two people just won't admit that they're right for each other, until many, many people interfere and cause general havoc." She noted with great satisfaction that both Rachel and Gar were uncomfortable with that idea. "So, Gar, you're not going to patrol?" It was time to leave the pair of them.

"No."

"Good," Rachel said. "And good night, Victor, Jinx."

"Good night," Victor said. Rachel had something to say.

"Fran and I didn't think you would be doing much today," Rachel said. "You know I have sense enough to keep discretion about the Titans. You're on heavier doses today, so she thought you'd sleep for awhile."

"Just what did you and Fran talk about?" he asked.

"Besides the fainting? And yes, that was fainting," she said before he could insist otherwise. "Just- assorted things."

"In other words, you're not going to tell me."

She nodded cheerfully. She didn't have to smile to be in a good mood. "Of course not- what would the fun be in that? Instead, I'll remember the charming little anecdotes until I have use for them. Your mom will be home soon."

"You don't have to go. You could stay for dinner- I could use someone to protect me from my parents."

She only took a moment to consider. "There's just one problem in your logic."

"Oh. Well, if you don't want to stay-"

"Gar, you know me better than that. I'm just far more likely to side with your foster parents, that's all- teasing people from the safety of large groups is fun. Your advantage of the chemo is pretty good, for a sympathy pull- but I'm the guest," she said as her communicator rang. "Just a moment- hello, Kori."

"Rachel, are we patrolling today? Richard's pacing- it's cute, in a way. He wants to go out to dinner, but he also wants to patrol."

"The Titans are calling in a break, just like Eve keeps ordering. Victor's spending time with Jinx, I'd rather take a break, and Gar agrees. So, three Titans say no."

"And if I also decline to wish to patrol, he'd hardly go against four," Kori said. "Thanks, Rachel- he really needs the break, and he knows it, but he can be most stubborn."

"Can't we all?" Rachel hoped that Kori recognized a rhetorical question.

"Rachel, are you at friend Gar's house?"

"Yes." There was no point in denying it.

"You stayed over, then?"

"Yes, and I'll probably be over here for a while more- dinner with his folks and all."

"I shall see the both of you tomorrow, then."

"I'll see you in first hour, yes," Rachel said. She waved to Richard, gave a quick recommendation for a good place to eat, and put the communicator on her book. "Friends are complicated," she said awkwardly. She didn't know what to say to get back to the comfortable give-and-take they had made earlier. Kori obviously would encourage them, but that didn't matter. Rachel couldn't remember exactly what they had done, to find that mood- it probably was the fact that he was too tired to be a little scared of her. Most people were, after all, even if it just was a little- and she did not want to try guessing his reaction, if she ever told him about Trigon. Their fragile relationship couldn't handle anything like that. Taking a nap killed it efficiently enough.

"Yeah," he agreed weakly. He didn't know what to say, and certainly didn't know how to regain the old mood. He had been mostly asleep. That was probably the only reason it had happened. He hadn't been awake enough to mess it up completely. She put her book back in the car, his parents came home, and they had a perfectly enjoyable dinner- but that wasn't enough anymore. That was the trouble with getting one's hopes up- it made disappointment that much worse. There was no use giving up hope, even with that. Someone had to be optimistic, after all.

**.Reconnaissance.**  
Jinx watched Victor for a long moment after he left for a brief time in the bathroom. "You just called someone- a lady. Don't get offended- I could recognize Kori's voice from here. You started getting antsy about calling her just after calling Gar, come to think about it. I think you're planning something, Stone."

"Maybe I am."

"Oh, relax- 'maybe I am' indeed. I'll help. I can get to Rachel, even when she's avoiding you and Kori. Your little plan just needs to account for one thing."

"What's that?"

"They can't know at the same time that we're interfering. We call them separately- and if you'll let me call Rachel, I can make sure that she goes to another room to talk. That's when you and the other two spring the plot on Gar."

"Who said anything about Richard?" Victor asked, guessing who could be part of 'the other two.'

"If Kori's involved, she'll get Richard in somehow," Jinx said. "What's the grand plan? You might as well spill. I was in the HIVE, remember? Hook-people-up games were a part of the politics."

"We were working on a plan."

"You're going to the big fancy hoopla Sunday. You've mentioned that Rachel dear agreed to dance with Gar a while ago, before it was obvious that she was interested. It's simple. You tell each of them- out of the other's hearing- your ultimatum. If Rachel doesn't make an effort to talk to Gar by Sunday morning before the wedding- you'll tell him. The same goes for Gar, with a few changed words. It leaves the stress on them, they won't compare notes without revealing what they're being pressured about."

Victor processed the speech for a minute. "Jinx, do I even want to know why you have a good plan for just about everything?"

"Probably not," she said with a grin. "Let's just say there is a reason my boss wanted me working right under him. I'm safer when I like people."

"So, you'll call Rachel?"

"And I'll keep her on the phone for four minutes. You explain things to Kori and Richard and call Gar- it doesn't matter if his parents hear. Call his land line."

Victor called Kori, but handed the phone over to Jinx. The two of them planned. He bet that he wouldn't understand the conversation if he wasn't just hearing half of it. Kori obviously approved, from the look on Jinx's face. She only looked that happily self-satisfied when all was going the way she wanted. She hung up smiling.

"Do we have nothing better to do than interfere with a pair of lovebirds?" Victor asked. "In time, they'd come around. We're in a relationship of our own. Why are we messing with those two?"

"You started to interfere before I showed up. We are in the steady state of a relationship- it's fascinating to us, when we do other things, too, and no one really wants to sit around and watch an established couple. That would be like watching Richard and Kori. They have their inside jokes, faces, gestures, mannerisms- we wouldn't get it. Gar and Rachel- well, they're starting off, and watching people fall in love is fun."

"Is it?" he asked.

She didn't like the look in his eyes, or the new tone in his voice. He wasn't this way often, but when he was- she couldn't stand seeing him just _look _at her like she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, and sound the part. If he kept looking at her like that, she wouldn't be able to stay back. _Ease up, girl. You need to leave an escape route, remember? _She turned away, purposely shattering the dangerous mood. "I'll call Rachel."

He knew that she was wary about going too far- but not in the usual ways. She was fine with kissing- but she'd only rarely admit to liking him. Even that much was usually in jest. If he tried to say anything remotely serious, she was either joking or out the door or angry. She always came back as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn't yelled that she was _not _his girlfriend.

Jinx resolutely ignored him. He never actively tried to make her feel guilty- but she still felt that she should apologize. Jinx hated apologies as much as she hated goodbyes. Neither ever went right, in her experience. "Rachel, I need to talk to you," she said quietly and very quickly. Victor guessed that was the instant that Rachel had picked up the phone. "Could you?" Jinx said. "It might be better- it's hard to not get a reaction. I have two things to tell you." Jinx gave Victor a thumbs-up, his signal to call Kori.

Rachel tried to not be irritable when she took her phone into the bathroom. She trusted Gar and his parents- but she'd rather not let them overhear anything too incriminating. "What is it?"

"Remember, Rachel- two things. First, you and Gar."

"Don't make me hang up on you."

"No, no- it's short," Jinx said. "I've talked with Kori, Victor, and Richard. If you haven't talked to Gar about this issue by the wedding Sunday morning, they'll tell him."

"Tell him what?" Rachel asked coolly.

"Don't play cold-mistress-of-darkness with me, Rachel. I buy you toothpaste. We'll tell him about the obvious infatuation. The boy was blushing like neon lights when he admitted the two of you were flirting-flirting- and don't take it out on him, I know that you're pretty deep if you're letting anyone try flirting. I'll take the blame for that much- and I'll say that he didn't look too mad about what happened."

"We're good friends, Jinx."

"Honey, you and Victor are good friends- and I know you don't flirt with him."

Rachel glowered, even if no one was there to see. "It's different with Gar- and don't call me honey."

"That's the ultimatum, Rachel. You tell him- or we tell him. Other than that- that was just a brief talk- I wanted to tell you about Angela and Trigon. I can give details about what she yelled at him, what she threw at him, and how he stopped protesting a few minutes in. He's running an inside overhaul."

Rachel considered. The bathroom door was closed, and Gar knew that she liked talking privately. If she said that Jinx had time to talk- it would be fine. She winced as the phone shrilled in her ear- someone had left the cordless in the bathroom. Luckily, it stopped after two rings. Rachel listened to the beginnings of Jinx's monologue, ignoring the answered phone.

Gar answered the phone in the kitchen. The phone had a cord that would stretch to four feet, which didn't give him much room. "Hello?"

"Gar, I do not have much to say, but it's important."

"That sounds kinda foreboding, Kori."

"Oh, it isn't all that bad," she said. "I was just talking with Richard, Jinx, and Victor."

"See, that _does _sound bad."

"It's about Rachel."

He should have known. "If I was talking to Victor or Richard or Jinx, I'd have sense enough to hang up. But- you're the nice Titan."

Shelia had been listening. When her son was five feet away, it was hard not to. "Gar, realize that I'm hearing half of this conversation."

"The half I'm hearing isn't much better," Gar said.

"It is very simple," Kori said, ignoring distractions and remaining very conscious that Jinx could only keep Rachel busy for so long. "Patrol is tomorrow, when we'll be ready to assure you of our sincerity. You have until Sunday to tell one Rachel Roth of your feelings for her- no denials, please, we all know by now. If you do not tell her by the time the wedding starts, we'll tell her for you."

"Kori, you-"

"Sorry, Gar, but some people just need a deadline to work best." She paused a final moment. "And this is for the best. You'll thank us, later- we hope, at least."

He heard Richard's protest ("Kori, that's not going to encourage him") before the phone disconnected. He stared at the offending piece of technology.

"Gar, what was that about?" Harry asked.

"My friends being irritating," he said with a scowl.

"Hon, you don't glower often," Shelia said, noting the scowl. "Even on chemo days- and you were okay today, right? Fran said you slept through, but I still worry."

"I was fine, Rachel was fine- my friends are convinced that Rachel and I are not fine, and that I need to- um, yeah. Let's just say that they're interfering."

Shelia smiled. "About Miss Roth? You know that I'd have no objections. You can date whoever you wish, of course- but I like her."

"Not you, too," he grumbled.

"Why not?" Harry asked. "Don't fuss, she's still talking- I can't hear her words, but I can hear her. I can't say that I'm certain- but she certainly does seem to be much closer to you than any of her other friends. If you need to talk-"

He shook his head. "Nope. Sorry. Maybe - _if _– I happen to say something- I'll consider that. Until then- sorry, but teenage guys do not talk to their parents about girls. Okay? It doesn't help that she's about fifteen feet away."

Shelia smiled. "I know, I know- but you don't have to be so typical. Maybe, if you don't make a move- she will."

"Your mother certainly did," Harry said. "She came in to ask me out on a date- and then sat herself on the hood of the car I was working on until I needed to get to the engine. I have no doubts that Rachel is just as persistent."

"What cars did you work on today?" Gar asked.

Harry recognized a forced subject change. "I didn't have anything exciting- just a few new imports, no muscle cars. Your mother had the pediatric surgery."

"It went very well," Shelia said. "Dennis will be up and running the nurses ragged in just a few days." She yawned before she continued. "And I'll be sleeping in tomorrow- the surgery ran over. I won't give details."

"The blood, I know," Gar said. "Fran talked to Rachel, all about the time I got blood work last year."

Shelia smiled. "Fran's a friendly nurse- and Rachel knows enough to keep the grouchier ones talking. I take it that they talked about uncomfortable topics?"

"I don't even know," Gar admitted. "I was asleep."

"She definitely heard the story about the blood?" Harry asked.

Rachel heard that much. "Yes, and quite a few other tales," she said, taking a seat at the table. "Sorry about the phone call- Jinx insisted that she had to talk to me."

"Jinx can be pretty persuasive," Gar said. "What did she want to talk about?"

"She talked about my mom a little- it's pure chance that Jinx knows my mother. Then, she talked about how she had an interesting conversation with you, confirmed the rumor that I was going to wear a dress at Vic's mom's wedding, and hung up." Rachel was used to abrupt ends by now.

"Anything else?" Gar asked.

"Just- girl talk," Rachel said. "Nothing very exciting to talk about" _but it'll be exciting when I throttle Jinx, Kori, Richard, and Victor, all at once. _"I heard the phone ring- was that anything interesting?"

"No, just Kori telling me that we're patrolling tomorrow" _and that she and Jinx and Victor and Richard want to interfere in my life, and probably get me killed. Maybe they're just too cheap to hire a hitman. _

"That's all, then?" Rachel asked.

"That's all."

Jinx called Kori after a minute. "Did you get him?"

"Yes, and I delivered the 'ultimatum,' as it is called- but it still feels that we are pressuring them," Kori said.

"A little bit of pressure's fine- and trust me, I need the distraction. Trigon's going to be busy for the rest of the week, so you guys can take it easy- if he starts to try getting back to business as usual, a jerk over on the other end of the big operation is just asking to be narced on." Jinx knew she had a temper, but she liked to think she only held grudges for a reason.

"That's all we do," Kori said.

"That's the most intervention that we can do," Jinx said. "Push any farther, they'll start resisting- and then you have two moody single teammates."

Richard still was skeptical. "We could just let them go on their own timeline."

Kori disputed that. "They're too uncertain about themselves. This way- maybe one will be bold enough to make that first step. I still think that it's odd, that we're all so involved in this relationship- if they want it to happen, it will happen. We have only given them a restraint on time- because if neither makes a move, we will not fulfill the ultimatum."

"What?" Victor asked with Richard and Jinx.

"I insist," Kori said. "We have interfered. If this doesn't work- maybe they simply are not meant to be."

"'Meant to be' nothing," Jinx protested.

"We will give them a chance," Kori continued serenely, as if she had not been interrupted. "If they do nothing- we will simply say that we should not have interfered. The guilt from that would draw them into a later confession more than anything else."

Richard was the first to grin. "Kori, have I ever mentioned that I'm very, very glad I go out of my way to not make you angry?"

"No, but you can mention it," she said.

"Okay, kids, we're hanging up," Jinx said before she could hear the reply to match Richard's facial expression. "Don't do anything you wouldn't want to imagine your parents doing, Kori- and Richard, for you- imagine Selina and Bruce." She smiled impishly at the disgusted faces- traumatizing teenagers, two at a time.

"Does the same go for us?" Victor asked.

"I don't know, Stone," she said. "There certainly has been a lot of relationship drama around here- do you think we can avoid any thorny issues today?"

"I think we can."

This wasn't right- she had to fix this. He was closing off a little, to make her comfortable- "No, forget that. Let's talk."

"Jinx, are you about to start a cliché on me?" he asked.

She stuck her chin in the air. "Let's talk about us," she said, dropping the impression after that sentence. "I don't know, Stone- I'm bad with all this kind of stuff. I- I need to know that you understand. I am a criminal. I am in a gang. Someday, I could end up dead- or gone. I could have to skip town. I could just want to leave."

"I'll try convincing you that you don't want to leave- and maybe, if I was done with high school, I would come with you. As for the first option- I worry about all my friends, Jinx, but not nearly as much as I do about you."

"I don't want to hurt you, Victor."

"That's a start."

She usually objected to the way he got when his voice sounded a little lower- but maybe that was because she hated feeling weak, and that voice made her knees shake just a little bit. _Forget it, Jinx- you're head over heels into the guy, and your knees are about as steady as HIVE cafeteria Jell-o that's been lefttoo close to the stove. _"Starts are good, right? Maybe someday we'll finish this talk, Victor." She decided they had talked enough for the day. Words could only say so much, after all, and they had plenty to think about- later.


	45. Revival

_This was posted shortly before leaving for the last performance of _Oliver!_, which is the most fun I've ever had in a musical. For any cast that happens to be reading this story- we're going to bring down the house tonight. (Tonight, for any wondering after other chapters are posted, is April 1st, 2006). I would take the time to add some droll little April Fool's prank to add to the chapter- but you're here to read the story, not author's notes. A certain scene set at a certain playground was greatly helped by dr.evil99- even if I did switch up the time of day/setting/relation to another scene on him._

**Chapter Forty-five: Revival**  
Angela Roth had been trying for a full hour to find her own just-do-it-now expression. Her husband had quite a variety, all backed up by his reckless use of weapons and a formidable temper. The fact that he could and did beat Slade in fights made him that more intimidating. Slade was just as bad, for intimidating people. Rachel had her glares. While high-ups still wouldn't quite give in, the thought of a very angry Rachel usually at least slowed the employees down a touch. Even Jinx had her own little things, even if she only used them on people who would give in with pressure. Observing an expression in the mirror that looked more like a grimace than a supercilious glare, she decided that maybe she should just ask her daughter for tips.

No, she wouldn't call Rachel now. The girl was spending Saturday morning and afternoon with her friends. They had been whispering about some secret plan, and carefully were keeping whispers away from Richard. Angela had been concerned- until Rachel told her the big secret and asked for a few tips. Birthday presents were nothing to worry about.

She looked back to the mirror. She couldn't be kindly. That would only convince people she was weak- and in the alpha-male mentality of the organization, that would not do at all. She didn't have the muscle mass or the fighting skill needed for physical intimidation, and Jinx had only walked her through two lessons with a gun. Angela wasn't going to carry a weapon unless she could use it and keep someone else from taking it. Until she could at least pretend some protection- she frowned at the mirror. Maybe that was it. A schoolmarm, perhaps, a proper forbidding teacher from almost a century ago. Yes, that could work- I am smaller than you, I have nothing but a ruler, and I will humiliate you if you cross me. Her great-aunt Annie had been a teacher in Detroit in the 1950s, and Angela could remember pictures of her diminutive aunt. That could work nicely.

"Hey, Mrs. R. What's with the faces?"

Angela smiled at one of the few employees she actually liked. Rapid voice recognition kept her from starting. Her daughter had chosen well. "You can call me Angela, Jinx, as I've told you. I certainly don't act like a mother, and Trigon is not in my good books. And all the faces are to try to make a mark in this gang. Half of the interactions in this silly place are testosterone posturing."

Jinx took that for an invitation. She left her post leaning against the doorframe to collapse on the bed for a little. "I've been running errands for two days straight, because of your changes- and I couldn't be happier. You've uncovered the worst bits of this operation, and I know that the clerks in accounting think you were snowballing all these years. I encouraged the rumors."

"Snowballing?"

"Faking. Pretending. Psyching them out to come back later and remember all their little slips," Jinx supplied. "You know, Mrs. R, you really could use someone on rumor patrol. I like cushy assignments. Give me two days, and I can build you a reputation. What do you want?"

Angela sat in the window seat. She had replaced the worn cushions with something that she could actually sit in. Now, the view from the second floor was something she could enjoy. "I don't necessarily want people to be afraid of me- but I'm going to protect my daughter. I was thinking like a schoolteacher," she said, aware of how silly that sounded. "Back when teachers were still a little threatening, that is."

Jinx's face was unreadable. "Fear is power. Power is influence. Your little girl's in danger already."

"I know that my daughter's in danger. I also know that, if she wanted to run, I would be the first to hand her cash for a way to get out of here."

Jinx shrugged. "Cash is good, but you better have a good act with Trigon going if you really want to pull it off. I must say, everyone's impressed that you're acting out again. The oldies are glad to have you back- well, except Slade, but he was hired full-time after you checked out for awhile, by all rumors."

"Explain, please?"

"Enough people heard your first spat with Trigon that favorable reports were sent across the board. They told quite a few people details. By the end of the rumor chain, you didn't throw a toaster onto the floor and silverware through the air. You threw a microwave at Trigon- somewhere along the line, the toaster became a toaster oven, which changed into a microwave." Jinx noticed an odd expression on Angela's face. "Trust me, Mrs. R. This is good."

"It is good that I have a reputation for chucking microwaves."

Jinx nodded. "Yes. If there are rumors that you have say in Trigon's decisions, people will start sending petitions to you. You're not a target for assassination, especially if you look like a controlling wife. All you need to do is make sure that Trigon agrees to a few small mandates once in awhile. Then, you're not running the show, he probably wouldn't pay any sort of ransom for you, and you have control enough to try looking out for Rachel. She's been acting nervous for awhile, but she's safe right now. The gang's chasing its own tail, for now, and all the action in this town is either lowlife criminals or where the Titans can't fight it."

"Jinx, I know the Titans are off haring about somewhere- you could stay with them a little more, you know. I could write you off as a bodyguard to protect the gang's interests." She paused, letting that idea sink in. "I know that Victor wouldn't mind."

"I don't need to spend too much time with the Titans," Jinx said, too quickly.

"Oh?" Angela said. She had found a topic. "Come on, have a seat- you're not escaping this talk. I know you don't have any other substitute maternal figures, and I'm pretty sure that you wouldn't tell the Titans."

"Rachel can keep a secret."

"But you still haven't told her about whatever your problem is with Victor."

"Who said anything about a problem with Victor?" Jinx asked. "He's great."

"Yes, he is great- but I mentioned Victor, you said the Titans. You 'don't need to spend too much time with the Titans,' remember? I know that Victor's always been the honorable type with my daughter. What's your problem with him?"

Jinx reluctantly took a seat. Rachel had inherited her tenacity honestly, from both sides. Angela was known for pursuing topics relentlessly. "He's- he's too great. He never pushes me about what I do. All he does is hint once in a while that I could do better. He wants to be a little more serious- but he'll back off, right away. He doesn't even gripe that I don't like the girlfriend/boyfriend combo."

"Jinx, he's not sticking around to try and convert you. He's not fond of human projects, as he told Rachel once. My daughter- she was the bluntest seven-year-old I could ever imagine, and she point-blank asked what Victor was up to, with those weekly soccer games. His answer? Learning soccer from the best. He saves projects for something like his car. If he's going out with you- he's interested in you."

"I don't know why, though."

"Have you tried asking him?"

"No!" Jinx said indignantly. "I'm not the type to go fishing for whatever complimentary remarks he'll dredge up."

"You should give him a chance, Jinx- he deserves it. He's a good guy."

"That's the problem."

Angela restrained the urge to roll her eyes. Talks like this called for someone to be supporting while someone else was irritatingly self-doubtful. "Jinx, are you like most employees around here? There's a reason you work right under Rachel. She trusts you, and for good reason. You'd never betray her- and you would let her go, if she needed to leave. Besides this- didn't you and Victor see other people for awhile, after that little HIVE incident?"

"I didn't do much seeing. The HIVE jerks weren't much good for romance. Giz and Mammoth and I still chat- but I see the Titan guys more."

"You know Victor's not one for complaining about what he can't change, I'd guess," Angela said. "Rachel's talking to me, now, and we've gone over past events. She told me something pretty interesting- he talks more about how he lets you down than he ever did about losing his brother- and his leg. I don't know if anyone ever brought it up, but he was a special case. He was right-handed, but he always led out with his left foot."

"He's a left kicker?" Jinx asked. She belatedly realized that she'd never played soccer with him, and that he never brought it up. "He never talks about soccer- I guess he thought I'd be bored. Tomorrow, he'll just have to show me a little soccer."

"That's a modern girl," Angela said. "Get him to talk about himself a little. He can lead off his left, now- for awhile, he was in a wheelchair. That was before the prosthetic came in for him. Rachel bullied him into trying that left foot of his again."

"He doesn't need bullying often," Jinx said. "Maybe I should try on a few points- do you know that he never mentioned his brother? I went and told him my little biography, and he never told me about much of anything."

"You could try tomorrow," Angela said. "Victor will be all dressed up at his mom's production of a wedding."

"There's a double-checked guest-list," she said dismissively. "Victor's dad is cool, about what I do for a living- but when Victor was close to telling his mom about his side gig, she was railing about how some crazy teenagers were going to get hurt. I don't think she'd approve much of little old me."

"Jinx, is there a reason you're not playing the modern organized-crime girl and sneaking in?"

"It's his mom's day. There's no need to ruin it."

"His mother will be an overjoyed bride. There would be no happier time for an introduction."

"It's too fancy, anyway," Jinx said. "I cased the banquet hall. If I snuck in, I'd tear up my dress- and the only back window leads straight over the oven."

"You want to go, Jinx- what's the harm? He'd certainly welcome you. The bridesmaids and the groomsmen have to dance once, but other than that- the matron of honor has her own date, and he'll be sitting at the side."

"There's no use trying to guilt me into anything, Angela," Jinx snapped. "It's enough for late-night dates, afternoons together, mornings with his father- whatever the order is, it's enough. There's a time when we'll all just have to give up and realize that I am not going to magically convert to be the good girl he wants."

"Jinx, if it was a good girl he really wanted- he'd still be dating a certain member of the Titans East."

"Yeah? Well- maybe I'll have that serious talk he wants, someday."

"You're lucky to have each other- and look at Selina. Do you really think she's put the old uniform to rest?" Angela asked. "Bruce is the stodgiest vigilante alive. If he and Selina can make it happen- you can do this, Jinx. He's letting you set the pace, and he probably would wait just about forever- but you don't need to drag everything out that long."

"I'll think about it. It's not really even the matched labels of boyfriend/girlfriend- I just don't know how far we can go."

"There's one way to find out," Angela said. "And I'm out of uplifting sentiment for the day- that's my quota."

Jinx smiled. "Thanks, Mrs. R. Maybe he and I can try something a little different, this time." She lingered in the doorway before leaving. "And you certainly act like a mother around folk that need it- Rachel's glad to have you back. She even said so to me."

Angela looked in the mirror a final time. She'd just avoid all the posturing nonsense entirely, perhaps- far too many toughs in the gang needed a mother-figure. That would work, very nicely- for now, she had to go make sure that Trigon had ordered a new drywall job in the west hallway. Bullet holes in the plaster were not approved at all- and it was only right, for the mother-figure to insist on a proper environment for her child.

**.Blindsided.**  
Richard knew better than to fight. The grip on his arm was gentle for the moment, but resistance would probably make sure he left this encounter with a few bruises. "Can I see yet?" he asked, trying to not sound plaintive. It was enough that his arm was held hostage- having someone hold a hand over his blindfolded eyes was just too much paranoia. "I'm not sure about the stairs, Kori."

"Nonsense," Kori said fondly. "You're the birthday boy, you are going to be surprised, and I promise not to bump you into the wall."

"She also wouldn't tip you down the stairs. That's why she's in charge of you. I helped make the cake. I still have frosting under my nails. I'm done for the day," Rachel said curtly. Richard didn't know what her problem was, but Kori had to know something was wrong.

"Thanks, Rachel," he said as Kori started to help him down the stairs. "I'm glad to see you don't tolerate me just because it's my birthday."

"I would hate to make a one-day exception. You'd be spoiled, come tomorrow." That was vintage Rachel- it was almost

"Is this really necessary?" Richard asked as Kori caught him before he fell.

"You get cake. Stop complaining," Victor said. "And we didn't feel like getting enough wrapping paper."

"Victor, it's a surprise," Gar warned.

"So don't mention anything until he's downstairs." Rachel had been listening to friendly bickering all day. She could only provide scathingly witty commentary for so long.

"Victor, would you please light the candles?" Kori asked.

"Why ask him to use fire? When he was welding, he nearly took my arm off," Gar grumbled. He didn't mention what Victor had been welding, Richard noticed- when had Gar been in a garage? He had mentioned that his dad kept him out of shops for good reason.

"You and your arm are clueless in a garage. I almost caught your sleeve in a power sander," Rachel reminded him curtly.

"Rachel, we do not require fighting." Kori was the peacemaker, as usual. "Fight later, if you must- and Victor, do not think of marring that frosting." She took the blindfold away, but he kept his eyes shut anyway. Whatever surprise she had, she didn't want to let it go lightly. "This is from all of us," she said. "Open your eyes, Richard."

He hadn't said anything for two minutes, but Kori knew he liked it. Bruce had been sure, when he was consulted. She smiled. Catatonic happiness was a good sign. She led him forward- it was like he couldn't see all over again, except that he had yet to look away. Come to think of it, had he even blinked? She wasn't sure.

Victor decided to show off a special feature of the gift. He pressed a quick succession on the keypad, and new plates slid into place. "It has a secret identity, too."

"You got me a motorcycle."

Kori couldn't help it- she giggled. She had never seen him so flummoxed. "Yes. Bruce said your last cycle met a bad end when you tried racing some rancid fellow or other."

"Yeah, I lost the bike and broke an arm- I shouldn't have tried that jump." Richard only half heard Victor proudly listing off statistics. The motorcycle had been made from the wreck, Gar's dad had given a workplace and help on the details, Victor's dad had provided some of the advanced technology, and Shelia had provided a helmet. The helmet had a small change in the design, to match the R-Cycle. What Richard was staring at was a second helmet, decorated in Kori's favorite shades of amethyst and violet.

"This way, the Titans can be in two places at once, and everyone will have transport," Kori said. "If you wouldn't mind, that is," she said, suddenly shy.

"We can try that, sure," Richard said. He wouldn't mind a passenger at all. "But- I'm going around the block at least, first. I need to make sure I have all the controls before I take a passenger."

Rachel drew back from admiring the motorcycle. Even after cake, the discussion was still going strong. Even Bruce and Selina were talking about the bike.

"Miss Roth."

Rachel didn't as much as twitch. Alfred would get too much pleasure out of that- and it still bothered her that a butler could sneak up on her that well. "It was a lovely cake you helped us with, Alfred, but the motorcycle is shiny. It also lasted longer." Rachel listened as Gar explained security measures, now that Richard was recovered enough to listen. Shouldn't she be happy he wasn't looking at her in that new way? He'd been doing it for almost a week, ever since she went to the hospital with him.

"It held attention while it lasted, which is what food should do," he said before carefully changing the subject. Moving too fast would make her back off. "Perhaps you have a particularly brooding look on your face because Mister Logan's attention is fully on the shiny motorcycle."

"I do not have a 'brooding look,'" she said with a scowl. "I don't like car talk."

"You keep up with Mister Stone, in discussing cars- and I know brooding when I see it. I came close to raising Bruce. You, Miss Roth, are brooding about something that could be easily fixed."

"Easily?"

"In hindsight, the solution will be easy to see."

"That's not the point."

"Miss Roth, you are an exceptionally brave girl. Oracle showed Bruce and me a fight in which you tackled two people at once while kicking a third, to give Miss Anders time to get to her feet. Emotional problems are not entirely difficult to resolve. All you have to lose is time."

"Alfred, you seem to know too much about any given topic. From a few of your droll side comments, I know you understand espionage. Why exactly is someone who must have been a spy trying to give me relationship advice?"

"Romance is not so dangerous."

"I presume that's why you take your spare time to woo some lady-friend, or whatever the term is for older girlfriends. This isn't about Gar, as much. Maybe without everything else, I might be able to just bite the bullet and ask him. This is the type of politics I won't explain. Anyone close to me will become a potential target- and making it clear just how much I care about someone isn't safe."

"This sounds close to something I have heard before."

Rachel knew that Alfred wasn't done.

"Richard felt the same, when Miss Anders was threatened. By keeping quiet, he nearly lost her."

Rachel had no response to that. Kori and Richard would patrol tonight, perhaps- Victor had already mentioned that he was the only person required to go to a rehearsal dinner for the next day's wedding. There had to be a law against Alfred always being right. Rachel said a quick goodbye to the other Titans before leaving. Despite her earlier words, she did take the time to wish Richard a happy birthday. She didn't look back. She didn't want to see Kori's disapproving frown- or the look that Gar was probably wearing again.

Kori waited through a few more minutes of car talk to make her observation. "Gar, you have been most quiet since Rachel left. Is anything incorrect?" she asked when Gar left the main group to get a second glass of water.

"Everything's fine, Kori."

"If all is fine, would I have to speak with you?" Kori knew the burst would come. When he began talking after slowly draining half of his glass, she was ready to listen.

"Shelia and Harry have been acting weird and discussing something when they think I can't hear, I still don't know about college, someone just paid my last chemo bill, I don't understand any of the car talk, and Rachel-" He stopped. That was just about all he needed to say. "And on top of all that- Rachel."

Kori hugged him, the only natural response for the look on his face when he said Rachel's name. "Gar, you worry too much. Shelia always likes to have details in place before she tells, the university will send letters next week, someone is helping you, I'm glad not everyone understands the car-driven drivel, and- maybe Rachel is just as puzzled as you." She didn't mention that the look on Gar's face was just as besotted as it was confused. He knew that.

"Kori, I was trying to work myself into being angry enough to storm out."

"That takes too much energy," she said, kindly dismissive. "You don't need to fake anything. I will make excuses for you- and the guys will not bother you."

"You want me to go talk to Rachel."

"Yes." Honesty was always better.

"Kori, I don't know what to say- and I don't want to try guessing what's been bothering her. I just want to make this work- the big wedding is tomorrow. She promised me a dance a long time ago- but I'm not looking for three minutes."

"You make your best effort. That's all that anyone can do. Friends shouldn't leave angry, and the guys want to see you and Rachel happy. They won't admit it, of course- but we're all softies at heart."

"Do you know why she left?"

"It wasn't something you did. She just didn't want all the attention that contemplation draws here. She wanted time to think, I would guess."

He thought for a moment. She hadn't looked mad, as she left. "I'll think about it," he said. This way, he didn't make a promise. He wouldn't talk to Rachel just because he promised someone else he would.

"Tienes suerte."

"Kori, you're- Spanish again, I think."

Kori didn't apologize. Her friends were tired of that habit, and they didn't mind lapses in language as long as she eventually gave a translation. "Good luck."

"I'm just going for a walk, Kori." Whether or not he happened to find Rachel- well, that was a different matter.

There were times to humor people. This was one of them. "Then don't break a leg- you're dancing tomorrow."

**.Karma.**  
Gar had kept his word. He had taken a very long walk, in an attempt to try clearing his head. After he ended up at the same place four times, he gave in. The Montessori school was on a side road, and the destination couldn't just be coincidence. Still, he kept going. He had to think this through. It was the fifth time he found himself looking through the hedges that he gave up and walked through the opening. He didn't notice that janitors eager for a raise had fixed every last piece of equipment. He only saw the girl on the swing set. She still came here to think, after all that happened- Gar wished he could forget the red.

Before he could deduce just how silly his idea was, he took a seat on the swing beside her. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, but didn't turn her head. He didn't know what to say- he had come to find her, though. That had to count for something.

She broke the silence. "The counselor is out. I don't know what's on your mind. If you need a place to think, I'll leave." She grabbed the swing's plastic-coated chain, but did not look ready to go. So much had happened here- maybe they could get it right, this time. She knew they had really been something, before Tara- and their atypical relationship was stronger than ever.

"Nothing's on my mind, Rachel. This is about someone."

Rachel didn't want to leave. Maybe it would be better to just figure out where he stood. "You know how well I do with people."

"I'd say we're even. We both trusted people who didn't have our best interests in mind." Gar didn't like how everything always went back to the past.

"I knew about Tara. I was stupid to go to Cooper's house."

"Rachel, you can be pretty greedy."

"Wh- what?" Whatever she had expected him to say, it had not been _that. _

Good. He had said something she didn't have a reply ready for. "You can't possibly own the blame for all this. Malchior deserves the insane asylum, and he could have fixated on someone else. You could defend yourself, when it might have gotten nasty, and we agreed that it's his fault. Tara-" He didn't know where to begin. "Do you know why she was so jealous of you?"

Tara had been jealous of her? "I think envy worked both ways." The bushes were fascinating. Rachel conveniently didn't think that they were easier to look at than Gar. Was it supposed to be this hard? He had come to find her, right?

"In spite of everything else- I was watching you, even then."

Rachel kept her observations on the bushes to herself, observing the color of the bulbs. "Why?"

"I just- well, I still wish I could have a chance with someone like you."

Rachel couldn't be hearing this right. This had to be some question of interpretation- "Like _me?" _

"Specifically you, but we didn't get along well after Tara came into the picture. I know you don't think much of my intelligence- heck, you probably shouldn't. I don't read _Pride and Prejudice _and _War and Peace _for fun. I barely manage to get people to laugh, once in a while."

Rachel watched him, tilting her head towards him just a bit. "Gar, are you-" She didn't know the words for this.

He had to take the chance. "I'll just say it. Rachel, will you go on a date with me?"

Rachel said nothing for a few seconds. The pause was enough to make him nervous. "I don't understand."

He knew she understood 'date.' He had been clear- at least, he thought he had. "Understand what?"

"Why would you want a girl like me?"

This time, he paused- but she was serious. Rachel did joke occasionally, dry little remarks that usually were aimed at him. This wasn't a joke. "Why would I ever want a beautiful, brave, intelligent, thoughtful girl like you? I don't know, maybe it's because you're one of the best people I've ever known. You don't care what other people think about you, but you'll go after people who are mean to anyone else." For once, he didn't lose his thoughts- maybe it was because she looked as confused as he felt, and she wasn't fighting every compliment he paid. "I probably won't be able to say most of this again. Just looking at you makes me forget any remark that's worth saying about you. I'm too stupid to lie, you know- and you're incredible."

"You can't tell the truth and lie in the same speech," she said. "You're not stupid- except that you have been stupid enough to fall for me." She hated the catch in her voice, and how her eyes felt like they were drowning. "You're going to get hurt." There. She had warned him.

"I'm a fast healer."

"You don't understand. I- I'm not a safe girl, Gar. I wouldn't let anything happen to you- but I can't control the world." She drew a shaky breath, taking in the air. "You can't be safe and be with me."

"I don't want a safe girl. Look how 'safe' the last person was, after all- Rachel, we have a risky hobby. I won't be any safer just sitting off to the side- and you haven't said that it's a problem with me. I know you wouldn't lie, if that was the problem."

"I don't know how to do- this. Any of this." She didn't have any more excuses- and what could she say? 'You can't date me. I'm Trigon's little girl.' The truth was- she wanted this. "Fighting. I can deal with fighting- that's easy. Win or lose, defend or attack. I don't know how to deal with people."

He wanted to reach out to her- but she wouldn't want that, not yet. "You don't need to deal with me. I like you, Rachel- all of you."

"Half of what I say is insults. I don't laugh at your jokes- or laugh at all, really. I don't smile. I'm uncomfortable with any show of affection." She looked at him- he wouldn't lie, but it was hard to trust. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more certain. You keep me grounded. You aren't fooled by my jokes. You stayed with me, whenever I needed you." There was no going back now. "I'll be here for you- even if you don't say yes. I'm not that easy to get rid of."

She couldn't even work up the presence of mind to doubt him. "You always have been." She didn't know what else to say- was it always this hard? "We've both brooded enough, to borrow Alfred's phrase- he's going to be even more insufferably smug after this." She stood and stretched before offering a hand.

He didn't let go of her hand, even after she pulled him up- but she didn't seem interested in taking it back. "Lead away- I'll be right beside you."

The hopeful could imagine a smile to match her amused look. "How can I lead the way with you 'right beside' me? We both know the way, so no one needs to lead- we're not dancing, after all. Then, you can lead." She still was surprised by how easy it was to lift him. "Someday, you're going to eat real food- but for today, we could go for vegetable stir-fry." Rachel didn't mind that option, and she knew the restaurant that offered the meal was a favorite of his.

"I think you're leading in dancing- but we both can find that restaurant." He continued his argument before she could protest. "You should lead- forget being traditional. I'm left-handed, and I have two right feet."

"I could try leading, I guess- I don't have heels to deal with." Rachel's balance on heels left much to be desired, and Kori was still growing, it seemed. She glanced at her watch. "I think we're going out to dinner- that's pretty serious, for a first date."

"Well, we've certainly waited long enough," he said. "Maybe we can stand to be serious."

"I'd like this much better than eating alone." He wasn't going to back down. Neither was she. Their friends could go take a long walk on a short pier. This was going to work.

"If I have any say in it, you won't have to be alone again."

She knew he meant it. "I should have known you'd be hard to get rid of," she mock-groused. To make sure that he didn't miss what she meant, she held onto his hand a little tighter for a moment. He understood, and she didn't speak again until they reached the restaurant's parking lot. She wasn't sure what to do- but she'd have to figure it out quickly. "I'm paying half the tab."

"I know it'd be a waste of conversation to convince you otherwise, when we could do something but have a fight I'll lose." There- she accepted his answer. Now, time for his condition. "But I'm covering the tip." He had to at least make an attempt to be a gentleman.

She should have known. To compensate for a sudden burst of chivalry, she held the door for him. "We don't have to be conventional. That would get boring."

"Us? Conventional?" He held a chair for her. "I don't think so."

She sat in the most ladylike fashion she could think of, and handed Gar a menu when the waiter took drink orders. She should have known it wouldn't be awkward, with Gar- they had finally been completely honest. She did catch the beginnings of a smile- but that didn't matter. A girl had to be happy, sometimes- and she had every reason to be.

**.One-Two-Three.**  
Kori hung up the phone. "Victor and Jinx were out playing soccer before the rehearsal dinner when they saw Rachel and Gar, hand-in-hand and heading for a vegetarian place," she said. "We have the night to ourselves." They already had taken a few rides around with the motorcycle, but a few hours had been enough for her. "Do you have anything in mind?"

"No. Do you?"

"Yes." She slipped off her shoes and dimmed the lights. "How about a practice dance, for tomorrow?"

"Here?"

She smiled at the way he nervously looked around the basement. "Would it matter if someone walked in? We have an empty floor- and I know you've learned the steps. We learned them last week."

"Kori, I don't know."

"Don't know what?"

"This is- well, I'm just- I don't know."

Kori pulled two chairs into her dance floor and pushed one behind him. She waited for him to sit down with her. "You only hesitate like this when you have some personal issue that is usually easily resolved. I know you don't like this kind of stuff, Richard, but if you need to talk, I'll listen- and if you don't want to dance, we could do something else."

"It's just- tomorrow's the first time I'll see a lot of people. They all know what I used to be like."

"You used to be someone. Past tense, Richard- over and done with. You changed on your own- all you needed was someone to be there for you."

"What about that dance?" She always was there for him- maybe it was time to return the favor.

"Do you really want to waltz? If you're just humoring me, I'll have to do some damage."

"No, I like dancing- not that I'd admit as much to anyone else."

"I like motorcycles."

"That's not the same," he said.

Kori gave her most innocent and bemused look. "Isn't it?"

"You know perfectly well what I meant," he said.

"Maybe I did and maybe I didn't- but who would make you feel uncomfortable here? You're good at dancing, Richard- you'll show off in anything else you're good at. Say you learned dancing for me."

"I did."

"Can't you admit liking things that aren't so masculine?"

"What?"

"You're the best fighter on the team. You ride your motorcycle like a fiend when alone, and make showy jumps. You like attention. You're good at dancing, Richard- the instructor even said so. Is it so embarrassing, to dance with me?"

_How could she think that? _"No."

"Is it the dancing?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

"This is just- it's something people watch you do. I don't want to mess this up for you."

"If you mess up, I'll fall over, everyone will stare, I'll laugh, we'll get up, and then we'll dance again," Kori said.

"You would, too- you're that wonderful."

Kori knew that tone. "Stop it. Right now. I am not going to be interested in finding anyone else." She pulled him to his feet and shoved their chairs away, ignoring the furniture's following crash with a wall. "It's not a matter of 'deserving' me. I'm not a prize. Relationships are not about competition." Seeing that he wouldn't be running away, she turned on the music. She was tired of waiting for doubts to appear- it was time for a little direct intervention. "Take your shoes off." Good- he knew to listen, when she was in intervention-mode. She watched him recover as the music began. "We're not going to fight through mutual insecurities anymore. We don't need them."

"Mutual?" he asked.

"We don't believe in ourselves." She smiled when he corrected his foot placement, getting ready for the music. She heard the count of the music in her mind- _one_-two-three, _one_-two-three.

"We could start learning that- and maybe we'll do it right, this time."

She leaned against him for a moment before finding her place in the music. If they started in eighteen counts, they would be in the right place in the music. She smiled when they started dancing- any activity that required him to hold her that close was as good as a motorcycle made for two- and she liked this view better. She didn't care of she had to tip whoever was in charge of the music at the wedding herself- they would do this again.


	46. Terrific

_For comic fans- there are very many cameos by very low-priority comic book superheroes, some more obvious than others. Actually, all fans can look around- you just might find someone you recognize. Yes, this chapter does contain fluffy scenes. Gripes, complaints, and rants will be disregarded- consider this your warning, but the brief interlude can't last very long. Until the action picks up- enjoy, folks. Relationships developed now just might change later scenes._

**Chapter Forty-six: Terrific**

**.His.**  
"Dr. Holt, I'm pretty sure the bride's supposed to be the neurotic one." Victor didn't know exactly what to say, confronted with a famous researcher who seemed to be having difficulties with a tie.

"You can call me Michael, you know. There's no need for formality, and I don't think either of us is ready for step-father," he said. Dr. Holt was known for his organizational skills and resourceful thinking inside of a lab. Confronted with marriage to Dr. Elinore Stone, who held half the patents he used to base a few of his projects- he was not at his best.

"Um- Michael, I'm pretty sure ties don't go on the wrist," Gar said.

Victor had to smile at the researcher. "You know, I heard that you don't do well at normal social functions."

"I don't," he said. "Your mother does, of course- I actually met her at some cybernetics convention that Wayne Enterprises endorsed. I'm sure that someone will bring up that story in a toast, so I won't bore you with the details.Wayne Enterprises isan accounting firm, mainly, but the head of the company keeps stock in a few various things. He's been invited to the reception."

Richard hung up his cell phone in time to hear that. "Wait a second- Bruce Wayne?"

"Yes, he is the head of Wayne Enterprises, unless something changed."

"Well, that explains why Bruce was so smug when I said I was going out for the night. Kori had to have known- she and Alfred were giggling over something while I was trying to find my dress shoes. Well, she was giggling- Alfred was doing his best I'm-not-smiling look." Richard paused. _Great. I just completely lost the guy. _"Bruce Wayne is my uncle. I live with him, over in the Gates."

"Terrific. Even the groomsmen Elinore insisted on seem to know the man- she mentioned that you're forever at Richard's house, Victor. I assume that goes for Garfield, as well?" Michael asked.

"We've been over this," Gar interjected. "Gar. One syllable, por favor."

Richard grinned. "Kori has us all doing that, now- she's been on a Spanish kick for awhile. She wants to go somewhere over the summer where people 'meanfootball when they say football'- I think she just wants me to be the one bungling phrases, for once."

"Speaking of Kori- what were you two talking about, Richard?" Victor asked. "And Michael- I'll get that tie for you. It would make a very neat tourniquet, at the moment, but nobody's spurting blood."

"Kori- or Miss Anders, as Alfred would say- is very envious of Rachel, at the moment. Rachel, taking one look at the communal changing room for the ladies, left for the bathroom. Kori thought it was modesty at work- until my mom's wedding dress came out and took up half the room. Now, she's trying to change without being smothered in crinoline. Tora Olafsdotter- unfortunate name, but Kori says that the maid of honor is nice- is helping with the dress. There was a matron of honor, originally, but Cindy Reynolds had to back out for something or other. Kori says that Tora is nice, though."

"Miss Kori Anders?" Michael asked.

"Yes," Richard said, puzzled. "Do you know her parents or something?"

"Know her parents? The Anders familyfunded half of the exhibition for STAR labs, last year. They're not coming, are they? I know that social functions and how one acts at them are supposed to determine how funding increases or decreases-"

Victor decided it would be more polite to just cut him off. "They're not here, and they probably wouldn't know cybernetics if Ikicked them in the rear.They're nice folks, I'm sure, and they've done some good missionary work- but they won't be here to see their little girl all dolled up and pretty in pink."

"Pink?" Gar asked.

"Kori's wearing pink- she told me that much," Richard said. "Rachel is not, and that's all she will say on the matter."

"Rachel doesn't also happen to be famous?" he asked.

Victor was left to reassure his soon-to-be stepfather. "No, she isn't. Her parents aren't, either, as far as I know." Well, he knew the stories about Rachel's father the FBI agent- but maybe that was better left classified.

"My uncle's not the type to randomly slash funding," Richard said. "Besides, if he's here- he'll have a date."

Victor checked a copy of the guest list. "Yes, Ms. Selina Kyle's listed as his date- weird."

"What's weird about Selina being on a date with Bruce?" Richard asked.

"No, no- not that. My dad just has a date listed as 'to be announced.' I didn't think he was interested in seeing anyone right now," Victor said. "Makes sense he was keeping his options open- but as of last night? That's odd."

Gar glanced at the list. "Cute- we're all listed with the bridal party." He was still staring at the paper a minute later.

"Um- Gar?" Victor asked.

"I'm listed as Rachel's date," he said. "It's all printed out and everything."

"I updated the list last night," Victor said, sounding a little smug. "Rachel called Kori, Kori called me- and you're official."

"Still, look at it."

Richard guessed that Gar was going to be like that for awhile. Well, he wouldn't complain- at least it kept Gar from worrying. "I am looking at it. Ms. Rachel Roth and Mr. Garfield Logan. It's in writing, Gar- and I know the euphoria stage will last for awhile, but I think that you should realize you're going to see the girl in a dress."

Victor saw the look. "Dr. Holt, why are you starting another spasm?"

"Garfield _Logan? _There cannot possibly be many Garfields," Michael said. "Were your parents Drs. Mark and Marie Logan, by any chance?"

Gar dropped the guest list and backed away a little. "Um, Victor, the doctor guyis scaring me a little- and why does he know my parents?"

"I was at their funeral," he said quietly. "They were two of the brightest researchers STAR ever had, even if I only met them in interdepartmental stuff. I really don't mean to down the mood or anything- but I don't know how many times you've heard what they did for the labs."

An usher knocked before opened the door partially. "Are you almost ready, Mr. Holt? A grand and glorious destiny awaits. The ladies are finished dressing."

Richard glanced at RON PERLMAN's name badge. "Okay, enough with the foreboding talk," he said. "I think you're looking for the funeral. That's down the street, at the Presbyterian mass." Even if the usher was off his rocker- the somber mood was passed, Holt looked less nervous, and Gar looked just about petrified. All was usual in the world.

"To the altar, Dr. Holt," Victor said. He found a less foreboding usher to help direct Dr. Holt into place. When dealing with a very nervous groom, it was easier to stick with accustomed titles. "Come on, you can do this- I have the rings, Tora just sent word that we're still on schedule, and Richard just got off the phone- all the ladies have their bouquets and makeup and hair ready."

"I can do this," Michael said uncertainly.

"You can do this," Gar said. Calming someone else down might let him forget for a moment that Rachel was going to be wearing a dress. "She's here, isn't she? Do you really think she just wanted to see herself in white? I know my mom got tired of the lab coats. She's here to marry you. Now, practice the two most important words- who wants to get married?"

"She does."

"Now put it in first person," Gar said.

"I do."

Victor grinned. "That's it- now let's get you up to the nice priest."

**.Hers.**  
Rachel didn't know what was taking so long. The two little flower girls were related to the maid of honor, and were very slowly making their way down the center aisle, glancing back frequently. They still hadn't grasped the idea that it was okay to strew rose petals on the floor.

"Rachel, you need to remain calm," Kori said. "They're lifting the pace, see? I'm first, then you, Tora follows behind you- then the bride. Her father's gone, so she's going alone."

"Remain calm?" Rachel gave her dress a doubting glance. "I told you I don't like skirts."

"You're fine," Kori soothed. "You already said that my dress was fine, remember? We have the same design." The thick straps of Kori's solid pink dress were wide enough for the easy-going Catholic parish, where the priest had even allowed strapless gowns. The priest was lenient as far as dress- but any shoes tied with plastic-ended laces were not allowed. Father Vic Sage had his eccentricities, especially when it came to aglets,but his homilies were popular.

Rachel still wasn't sure. She didn't mind the floor-length skirt of the dress as much as she thought she would. The skirt did flare out at the bottom, but only enough that she had room to move her legs easily. If needed, she probably could fight in the dress- not that Selina had openly taken that into account when talking to the bride. "Did you see the guest-list? It's so weird- it looks more official, now that it's all typed out."

Kori didn't mention her role in the change. "Everyone else certainly saw it coming," she said. _Well, it is the truth, _she told herself. "Okay- the flower girls made it. Smile a little, Rachel, if you feel like it- and make sure you get a good look at Gar's face."

"Kori-" But it was too late. Kori was already walking down the aisle, holding onto her bouquet of gardenias.

Rachel took a deep breath, telling herself that she only needed the air because of how the dress fit. Nervous? Her? Never.

She stepped onto the carpeting that led down the aisle-way, and barely noticed the walk. Gar's jaw was about to fall off and she was still twenty yards away- maybe this dress business wouldn't be so bad after all.

**.Matrimony.**  
Victor knew that he should be paying rapt attention to the readings and the sermon, but not even Father Sage's slips into conspiracy theory about how aliens had begun the practice of exchanging tracking rings couldn't keep his attention.

He wished he had a camera. He was pretty sure that Richard hadn't blinked in four minutes. Gar did blink, but Victor knew that Gar wasn't paying any more attention to ceremonies. He caught Tora covering a yawn with her bouquet. She further covered the slip with a shy smile for the crowd, but he knew what she was up to- and envied the flowers. All he had to do throughout the ceremony was look interested and hand over the rings as Sage muttered something about control-bands or whatever the current theory was.

Leaving the church was much more interesting. His mother (now Mrs. Elinore Holt- she took a wicked joy in confusing the STAR labs bookkeepers that made her requisitions requests difficult) left, looking happier than he had seen her in years. He followed with Tora, who blew a kiss to her boyfriend in the third pew. He wished that he could see behind him- Gar and Richard had worn interesting expressions before offering an arm each to the girl.

He consoled himself by grinning throughout the limo ride to the reception hall. His mother and step-father had a limousine to themselves, and the bridal party had a second one. Gar kept his compliments to Rachel quiet- and Victor again rued the lack of a camera while Rachel smiled a touch and turned about as pink as Kori's dress. Kori and Richard were also talking to each other just as quietly. Victor wasn't surprised when Tora's boyfriend claimed her the instant she was escorted to the table.

He was surprised when the man proposed. Before dinner. His mother, of course, was delighted- Elinore didn't mind at all that the attention was off her for a few minutes. Of course, that meant that Tora was immediately claimed for all dances. Victor wasn't about to insist on tradition, when looking at a deliriously happy couple. He'd just go talk to his dad, during the time for dancing.

Dinner wasn't boring, at least- Holt and Elinore were discussing a few new ideas for prosthetics with internal computers. Holt's extension of cybernetics was the most advanced in the country, and his department had some ridiculous claims. Victor, for one, didn't believe that an entire body could be made from electronics. The leg was one thing, and the toes still were clumsy. Michael claimed that he had an AI program that could transmit nerve outputs and create actual hands.

"What would you call a guy who was more than half robot, anyway?" Victor challenged.

"I'd name him after that superhero in Jump City," Michael said. "This has actually come up, for patents- we need a name. I still like Cyborg, the hero fellow that goes around your town."

Victor managed to not do a spit-take with his water. "That guy?"

"I've heard of him," Elinore said. "Silas has been saying the oddest things about that hero."

Victor's mother was in the best mood he'd witnessed in years. "I could tell you a little about him- if you promise to not overreact."

"I'd like that," Elinore said.

"So would I- I'm glad someone found a new topic," Michael said. "We talk about work too much as it is."

Rachel heard a few snatches of conversation to her left. Victor finally was telling his mother, then. She glanced at her watch nervously. Kori had insisted that wearing the watch was out- but smuggling it in the bouquet had been allowed. "Gar, you've been quiet for eight minutes. All you've talked about is me in a dress, but you're not even staring." From his reaction earlier, she doubted that it was a problem with her. "What's on your mind?"

"The groom knew my parents."

"Drs. Mark and Marie Logan?" Rachel asked. "He mentioned them again- it seems that they were some pretty crazy scientists, and that you might have come by your skill with genetics unfairly. Is there a genetics gene?"

He didn't even try to laugh. She didn't think he even recognized her weak attempt at a joke."Yeah- he was at their funeral."

She knew better than to apologize. That would only give him an opening. "Do you need to talk?"

"No, I-"

"Let me phrase this more accurately. Would you feel better, if you talked? I know that you worried less about cancer and everything else, after someone knew." She waited. He knew that she wouldn't give up until he talked.

"I got cancer when I was really little, I've said. My parents were famous- but that doesn't pay all the bills, and they both funded half of their own research. They didn't like going off grants that would tie them to corporations or governments. They never were biased- and they never were rich as they could have been."

_You won't screw this up. You just need to listen, _Rachel told herself. "They were famous, though- I read ahead for biology. They actually come up, next chapter. They did some crazy things with tracking DNA synthesis and polymerase."

"They died in Africa."

"Why does it sound like you're blaming yourself?" she asked. _There we are- blunt, direct, and a little worried- no, concerned. _

"It's my-"

"If the next word is fault, I will dump that vegetarian dinner in your lap, Garfield Logan," she said severely. "What happened?"

"They needed money to cover a few new treatments the insurance wouldn't pay for, so they took a sponsored job to Africa to study simian AIDS in a very remote area with no affected humans. They were best with DNA, but they had some work with RNA replication and mutation. They died out there when their boat went down in a stretch of rapids- no one was there to help them. They were great researchers, but they never were good with water that didn't come distilled."

"And how is that your fault?"

"If I'd-"

She interrupted him again. "Did you sign up for cancer?"

"No, but-"

"Would you blame any of your friends in the chemo ward for needing expensive treatment?"

"Well, no-"

"It's not your fault, and that's final," Rachel said. She gave him a cool look. "Okay, I think you're better now- you've resumed staring at me." She observed with interest that he turned a remarkable shade of crimson. "It's okay, Gar- as long as you don't abuse your dating privileges." She stood in a rustle of skirts. On the other side of the newlywed couple, Kori heard and stood quickly. She moved quickly enough that Richard, who had been slowly leaning his arm around her back, fell over.

Victor, easing the topic of discussion to the fact that Silas had met Cyborg, barely noticed the two female Titans leaving in the direction of the bathroom. He did see Gar slowly making his way over to Richard's side of the table as the waiters brought out the salad course- but he could catch up later.

**.His, Again.**  
"Rachel just got me to talk about my parents, told me it was okay if I stared at her, and then left for girl talk," Gar said without preamble. "Should I be a little scared?"

"Kori was flirting like mad- and then she and Rachel left for the bathroom," Richard said. "Victor's about to break something to his mother- but other than that, there's really not much for us to discuss."

"So- mill about, wait for the girls to get back, and make sure we don't have an angry bride?" Gar said. "I don't see Victor's dad yet- he's supposed to be at table number one, but his seat and the one saved for his date are empty."

"So, we can't go for reinforcements," Richard said.

"You're watching the bathroom," Gar accused.

Richard shrugged. "Kori's not very good at hiding her expression. She might even tell me what she and Rachel were talking about."

Gar watched the bathroom for a moment before listening in on Victor's conversation again, just in case he needed someone to play damage control. Two minutes later, he gave up. "Victor's doing fine- his mom just asking for details about a few fights, and the little family's bonding." He stared at the door for another minute and forty-eight seconds (not that he was timing anything). "What could they be talking about?"

"Sometimes," Richard said wisely, "you just don't want to know."

**.Hers, Again.**  
"Kori, did you see the look on his face?" Rachel asked.

Kori giggled. "Which one? Richard did look like someone had just smacked his motorcycle- one day old, and he's already completely obsessed- with a dead fish. Gar looked like someone slapped him with the dead fish."

"They're probably fussing now," Rachel said fondly. "Gar brought up his parents, a little- and I didn't mess it up."

"Of course you didn't," Kori said. "He wants to talk, you want to listen- you two have some of the best communication around, when you're both ready."

"I'm not sure about dancing," Rachel said.

Kori looked around the bathroom- there was space. "The first song's a waltz- I got that out of the disc jockey earlier. There's room in here."

Rachel looked around. There was plenty of room. "The best part is that the guys will assume that we're gossiping all about them- as if we have something to say already."

"They're as bad as the priest fellow," Kori said. "Did you hear Father Sage go on about government cover-ups in matrimony? He's convinced the government not only puts control chips in the wedding rings, but that the FBI puts tracers in to check which couples should be divorced."

Rachel shook her head. "It's safer in here- I'd just as soon avoid the calamari appetizer. Dinner should be out in ten minutes- I got that out of a waiter while Gar was moping."

"That's plenty of time," Kori said, taking up the arms of her imaginary partner. "But, as long as we're in here- did you see who's here?"

"Bruce and Selina."

"Silas Stone and his date aren't here."

"Tim and Barbara are- they're over by the entrance."

Rachel peeked out the door after they listed many more people, taking the chance to look outside as a confused guest walked in to see two ladies dancing. "Oh, my- I see a Karen Beecher and Garth-whatever his last name is. Garth's here with his dad- oh, I recognize the father. Arthur Curry, a bigwig who gives a lot of press conferences for Wayne Enterprises."

Kori opened the door to look through the crack. "Dinner's about out- we should head back, if only to make sure that there aren't any scenes. I know that Victor said there was a civil breakup- but it would be very awkward, for him to meet her now."

**.Siciliano.**  
As far as Gar was concerned, dinner was over much too quickly. He vaguely remembered talking to Victor's mother about the Titans, trying unsuccessfully to guess what ever had kept Kori and Rachel away for so long, and eating mechanically. Victor had politely excused himself from the dance- Tora was going to dance with her fiancé. Richard had looked nervous, heading for the dance floor- but his stance was far too perfect to justify worried gestures. Somebody obviously knew how to dance- Victor watched. Within the first few bars, Richard and Kori were dancing. Well, it seemed that they both knew what to do. He resolutely ignored Karen- if they made eye contact, she would have to come over and talk to him. That would mean dragging Garth along. The last thing he needed was an ex-girlfriend.

"Victor, did you happen to time Bruce's retreat?" Selina asked, taking a seat at the vacated bridal table. "He doesn't dance until the crowd is a bit more inebriated. He had to go straighten his tie or something. I came over here to check on the Titans- Richard and Kori certainly are doing well."

"Well, Gar and Rachel started out fine," Victor said, watching them. They were standing at the edge of the dance floor. "He didn't have to ask- they both just started for the floor. Of course, the last time they came this close to dancing- well, it didn't go nearly this well," he finished tactfully.

"I'll interfere after this song, if they don't shape up," Selina promised.

"I think they'll manage," Victor said. "Look- Rachel's saying something."

"Too bad we can't hear her," Selina said.

"Gar, you want to dance with me, right?" This wasn't a courtroom case. She could lead the witness.

"Yes."

"Then put your hand on my waist."

"Like this?"Gar asked.

Selina snorted delicately. "Do you see that? There's a good four inches between his hand and her hip."

"No, actually on my hip," Rachel said, cautiously wrapping her hand around his wrist so that she could press his hand closer to her.

"Look at the girl go," Victor said, bringing out his digital camera. He couldn't get a good picture with the dim lighting- but he could get a very good view of what was going on out there.

"Rae, if you don't want to-" Gar was relieved she wouldn't let him finish. She didn't have to say a word. She just took his other hand.

"Look at her face," Selina said, forgetting sarcasm. "That's- oh, my, a picture wouldn't say enough about that. Infatuation. Complete and total head-over-flats infatuation."

"How ever were you going to manage last time we tried this?" Rachel scolded. "Hands clasped, now." She put her hands on his shoulders and glanced over her shoulder, then guided him onto the floor. "Almost there."

"Gar, too- of course, he's been looking at her like that for a long time. I swear that he was seeing stars when she stitched his arm up all that time ago," Victor said. "That's when Richard was antagonistic enough that she left pretty fast, but he's a lot better now. Of course, back then- Rachel would never have admitted that she did occasionally feel something we like to call emotion."

She put her hands behind his neck. _See, Rae? Doing fine- and talking to yourself doesn't change any of that. Now, find the beat- one-and-and, two-and-and, three-and-and, four-and-and. This is pretty music, whatever this is- I think Kori mentioned that it was Italian. So, it probably ends in –o. Whatever it is- it's just right._

"Look at her," Selina said fondly. "That girl is smiling- no teeth, just a smile."

"I never thought I'd be doing this, Rachel," Gar said.

"And look at him- I don't think he's blinked since she started smiling a little," Victor noted.

"I never thought of anyone else I wanted to dance with," Rachel admitted. No matter what she might have thought- she remembered old times when she had never acknowledged a few thoughts.

"You're going to have two deliriously happy couples on the team," Selina warned. "Teenagers in infatuation, at the least- if it wasn't so cute, I'd probably dry heave at the thought of just how many hormones have to be in that team."

"This is- nice," Gar said. They remembered a few pointers from Kori. They weren't the most graceful couple on the floor, especially with Kori and Richard sweeping by- but they were dancing, she had tricked him into leading a few times, and he was sure only one of her toes was bruised.

"At least they're finally acting on the hormones- the team finally had to try running interference on them," Victor said. "I can just imagine the tabloids' response. They already have cutesy name for the 'pairings' among the local celebrities. RobStar and BBRae, if you can believe it- don't people have anything better to worry about than other peoples' relationships?"

"I never thought I'd like this, Gar- I don't like crowds," she said, without sparing a glance for the rest of the dance floor. "But- they don't count, here. It's just- us."

"I don't think that CyJinx is so bad," someone purred in Victor's ear. Selina was right next to him, and he knew that voice could only belong to-

"I like having an 'us,'" Gar said.

"Jinx!" Victor was on his feet in an instant, but couldn't speak for a minute- Jinx was saying hello. "How did you get in here? You said you wouldn't break in."

"Your father caused a scandal- but he got me in, no explanations necessary," Jinx said. "Come on, the song's almost over- and I know that you're dancing with me, when you're all fancied up."

"You are, too,"Victor said.

She twirled. "I know it's probably rude, wearing black to a wedding- but I like it."

"So do I."

She smiled at him, not minding at all the way he could look at her like that and make her feel like the luckiest girl in the world. She also didn't mind the way that he nearly tripped over his feet when she gave him her best smile. "Let's go dance, now," she said as the music changed to something a little faster. "The slow music is over- and this way, we won't get bored."

Selina smiled as Victor was led away. He wasn't protesting at all- as he shouldn't be, with a girl like Jinx leading him. She felt a hand on her shoulder- well, that was pretty obvious. "All the kids are dancing, Bruce- come to take me around the floor?"

"How'd you know it was me?"

She leaned back. "Anyone else coming this close would have a broken hand right now, and I heard you walking up. Bats aren't completely noiseless, after all." She held out a hand. "Come on, dancing time- that nephew of yours is tearing up the floor, Victor and Jinx are together, and Gar and Rachel are doing fine. Now- there's you, and there's me."

"And I suppose we should do something about that?"

"I do suppose we should- unless you want me to go ask Richard. Come on, Wayne- I've heard from a very good source that you, in fact, are a very good dancer."

"Someday, I'll have to murder Alfred," Bruce said.

"Nonsense." Selina gave an old smile that he would be sure to recognize- no one forgot Catwoman. "Who else would indirectly help you get a lady on the dance floor? Let's go dance towards the wedded couple, send our best wishes, finish the song- and head back to my place."

"I guess it would be a bad idea to turn down that offer," Bruce said.

"I think you have better boardroom skills than that, Mr. Executive."

Gar watched as Selina walked onto the floor, trailing Bruce Wayne. "I guess the commentary's over- did you see the way she and Victor were watching us, Rachel?"

"Who could miss it? They should have gotten a few neon signs, while staring like that- Victor was surprised enough to not use his camera," she said. "People certainly are gaga about two people just having a good time dancing."

"I think only Kori and Richard didn't notice," Gar said, watching the dancing couple. "Would you look at them?"

"I'd rather not, really- they're not who I'm going to remember, after all."

He only blushed a little. "I'm already dancing with the prettiest girl in the room, anyway- but don't tell the bride. I don't think that you're supposed to say that kind of stuff at a wedding."

She smiled, just for him- and he landed a second bruise on her foot. Who cared about toes? They would heal. "I won't tell."

**.Best of Nights.**  
Rachel's house was first on the way back from the reception hall. She accepted Gar's hand in exiting the car, then looked over her shoulder. Three Titans were very obviously pretending to not watch. "Come on," she said, rolling her eyes at the occupants of the car. For three people who weren't looking, they certainly blushed. She walked around the corner, taking advantage of an overly large ornate topiary. "It's better, if we don't get too close to my house," she said haltingly. "My father- well, he wouldn't approve."

He should have known-

"Don't even start blaming yourself, Gar. I know that look. Tonight- that was the most fun I've had in years, but I can think of one other thing that equals it."

"Oh?"

"Yesterday." She felt a little better when he smiled again. She knew that he wanted to walk her to her door- but he already was in danger. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"We are going to- see each other again, though?"

She nodded. "You're as paranoid as I am- but both of us are sure. Don't think you'll be rid of me so easy, Gar."

"Good night." He turned- but her hand was on his shoulder. For a second, he saw a flash of purple and caught the scent of gardenias from her bouquet- and then there was a brush of lips on his cheek before she drew back, breathless.

"Good night, Gar." With that, she gave him a gentle shove back towards the car. She guessed that he wouldn't mind- but they could talk later. Later, of course, meant a time when she had the chance to blush.

Victor was the first to look up when Gar staggered back around the corner with a look of complete confusion. "Um- Gar? Are you okay?"

"Me? I'm fine," Gar said.

"Truly?" Kori asked.

"Completelyterrific. Justdandy," Gar responded.

Richard didn't know what to think, between the words and the smile. "Um, Gar? You just said 'dandy.'"

"Are you going to share with the class, Gar?" Victor asked.

"Let's go with no." Gar didn't think Rachel wanted a broadcast. If she had, she might not have pulled him around a corner.

Richard, Victor, and Kori tried getting it out of him- but Gar only waved cheerfully before going into his house. He was dating Rachel. Evading their questions was easy. Jinx laughed at the three of them. "He'll tell you when he's ready- but did you see his cheek? I saw a smudge of lipstick, and I know that Kori helped Rachel put more on after the dessert course."

Jinx remained just as smug when Richard and Kori exchanged a far more obvious kiss. "Those kids," she said fondly. "Good night now, Richard," she said, ready to be one of two people in the car.

"Where are you headed, Jinx?"

"Home, I suppose- and I can't quite show you where that is. Any unapproved cars too close will end up with the vehicle and driver as a premium target for bullets." She flippantly spoke of such danger- but what choice did she have? "As it is- how about we head to your place? It's warmer than the park, this time of year, and Selina had enough trouble with the dress that I wouldn't want to mess it up."

"Just to satisfy my own curiosity- how do you think the chances look, for Gar and Rachel?"

Jinxdecided that optimism with reason wasn'tcompletely horrible."He's the best guyfor her to end up with."She paused- she hated to wreck a mood, but she did not want to forget. "The gang's going to break out again, tomorrow, and be worse than ever. You know that, right?"

"You can stay with the Titans, Jinx- we're going to make it out of this. We're going to fight him, sometime- and I plan to not lose. You could be an honorary Titan," he offered. She knew them all- she wouldn't betray them.

She smiled sleepily- he knew just how to get the tension out of her shoulders with only a few touches. "Not all the time, Stone- someone else needs me. Someday, I'll explain exactly why I kept such a secret from you. Until then- you trust me, right?"

"I trust you." He did, too- just as much as he trusted the Titans.

"Who would've thought- I ended up with a good guy who's everything I've ever dared dream of, Kori calmed down the Gates' own juvenile delinquent- and Gar drew Rachel Roth out of her shell. Romance does crazy things."

"So does love."

She bit her lip, forgetting lipstick. "I don't know about that yet, Victor- but maybe I'll learn, sometime."

"Maybe I'll just have to teach you."

She kissed him, mostly to keep him from talking like that- she wasn't about to admit to loving anybody anytime soon. At least, not that night, not yet- maybe when she didn't have any secrets left, or when she was about to move on, or when he was ready to admit that they had love, but not a feasible relationship… but with his determination, it would come, sometime. She would just have to accept that she didn't have an easy exit, and that she would have to say a goodbye before leaving everything and everyone else behind. Even leaving might not be so easy, if she had someone to miss her. Maybe she would have to stay in Forston for a time.

Oddly enough, not even that was enough to scare her anymore.


	47. Crossing the Board: Part One

_**To all reviewers: **I don't intend to make a nuisance of myself, but I will snap at the next person to tell me to be careful with my space key. I do have a temper and I am willing to come off badly to explain a recurring pet peeve of mine. smashes some words together during uploads, especially for longer chapters. Fixing one error usually causes about two more. So, to summarize: please do not tell me that there are words smashed together. It takes a while to get long chapters proofread. My spell-check would catch missing spaces. The next person to tell me that I'm rushing typing, need to be more careful typing, or have several flaws in spacing will receive the full force of a proper Irish temper (inherited honestly, even if I am American). In my copies of chapters, and in my edited versions on the spaces are fine. It's the posted versions that have issues with spacing. If you can understand the story through the five mangled spaces- what's the point? Even a beta-editor couldn't catch spacing errors. This issue has been brought to my attention for approximately the one hundred and eighty-second time (which just might be under-exaggeration). This has been the rant for the chapter._

_For this chapter, I have ripped a few lines straight from the show, borrowed liberally from established plot, added my own line of plot, included an idea for plot never suggested by the show, and have generally twisted the plot around. This and chapter forty-eight will have to be enough to last from April 14th to 22nd. Chapter forty-eight will be up after a few details are fixed._

**Chapter Forty-seven: Crossing the Board, Part One**  
Tim doubted he would ever be used to the basement. Every time he visited, he understood why Barbara called it a cave- even if he could only peg the fondness in her tone as nostalgia. The basement was well-lit, but the décor was still very dark. Black floors, dark gray walls, a ceiling in the same tone- it was no wonder the place looked like it could be an actual cave. Echoes from the weight room were very loud, especially when he had expected it to be empty. Bruce was going through taxes for one of his most affluent clients. Selina didn't use the weight machines. That left one candidate.

"Richard? Can we talk? I have something I need to tell you."

"I don't know, Drake. My girlfriend might mind." Richard knew it wouldn't make him go away, but it was worth a shot.

"I know we don't get along, and I understand that."

Richard decided to ask, if only get keep Drake moving. "What brings you here? I know it's not the atmosphere, and we can rule out the company."

"I'm a reporter. I'm used to odd phone calls. I'm not used to people who ask me to pass on a message. I have a letter. A phone call yesterday put a voice with words." Tim still wasn't sure that this was the right thing to do- but the decision was Richard's.

"People still write in cursive- you don't see that much anymore." Richard glanced through the letter, addressed to Mr. Timothy Drake. "Is Ms. Mary Lloyd a fan of yours?"

"Actually- some people are fans of Kate Gray. That's her stage name. She goes through pseudonyms with new acts, and she's outlasted fourteen circuses."

Richard glanced at the signature. It was larger than the rest of the letter, with careful control and no flourishes. "What does she do? Tame lions?" Something was going on. "You didn't bring this over here to play show-and-tell with the not-quite-family."

"She is an acrobat who, at one point, went by Grayson- Mrs. Mary Grayson, to be precise. She's in town, right now, and I didn't give out your number. If you want to call her, her phone number is in the letter."

"She called you?"

"She wanted to know if your father was still around." Tim didn't know what he had missed, but Richard was different. He actually could tolerate the kid, if liking was out of the question. "She never found out what happened. There never was an obituary- I did a bit of digging. He didn't want his family involved, and the paper honored his request."

"What else did she say?"

"She kept pushing, to make sure you were her kid. All I mentioned was that you are a senior in high school, live with your uncle, and haven't inherited your father's disregard for the law."

"You're a reporter. Would you recommend meeting her?"

"It's your call- and you're asking someone who has to be curious by profession. I'd say go for it, in a public place, with a friend."

"Kori's like her," Richard thought aloud. "And I know that Kori would like to talk with her- this is the emotional stuff that she's always very happy to do, and she's asked about my mother a few times. Kori can charm Alfred, when she puts her mind to it- she would keep everything civil, at least."

"Kori also can hold her own in a fight- under-the-radar heroes can't be too careful."

Richard glanced through the letter, buying time. He might as well ask- no one else was around to interfere. "What's with all the rumors about us having some sort of problem? Every time Barbara talks to Richard instead of Robin, it's about why I hate her boyfriend."

"From your reaction to bringing me in to investigate-"

"At that point in time, I didn't want anyone to know what I was doing. You have a reputation for putting puzzles together- and Bruce trusted you."

"He trusts you, too. You and Bruce are much closer, now- and Barbara's part of the family, of course."

Richard knew Kori would be proud. He had heard a very telltale pause, and he guessed just what it meant. "It wouldn't be a problem."

"What?"

"Exactly," Richard said. _Come on, reporter- take the bait. _Tim needed a proper approach, if he was going to listen.

"I don't get it." Tim tried the indirect approach.

_Close enough. _"Except- you do. You like the girl, the girl likes you- Kori took care of the first step for me and her, but girls like the guy to take initiative once in awhile. If you take too long, Babs might do it for you."

"Do what?" _He's good- but I'm not going to play into that. _

Richard decided to be blunt. "Propose. Are you going to do it? As she also happens to be Oracle- she knows that you've been haunting jewelry stores."

"An answer for an answer- are you going to meet Ms. Lloyd?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

Richard held out a hand. "Truce?"

Tim took it. "I don't think there ever was a fight- do you want details about Barbara? I'll ask her, soon."

"Your details, of course- I think Kori will have her side of the occasion."

"Now, before this gets all sentimental and your girlfriend gets suspicious- good luck, kid."

Richard smirked. "Good luck, slugger- and you better come up with _something _for the proposal. Oracle's heard it all, I'd bet."

"Thanks for the reminder."

"Nothing a hotshot reporter can't handle- you'll be fine," Richard said.

"Says the superhero who took months _and _a kiss from the girl to start something?" Tim retorted.

"Just because Kori didn't run over my toes to get my attention-"

"Be quiet and make the call- I don't have time to be here all day. I have a deadline to meet- I'm writing an article for the _Press _about the Titans. Any words of wisdom from the team's leader?"

"No comment."

"Come on- just a few-"

"No, no comment- and don't even think about harassing my girlfriend, or I'll call up Oracle."

"Tattling is the threat of a man with no options," Timothy said. He decided to not leave himself open for a retort. "Nonetheless- goodbye, and good riddance."

"Come back to the cave if you ever want a free round in the hologym- that'd make a good article," Richard challenged. He saved a smile for when Tim was safely out of the basement. Maybe the detective wasn't as bad as he had imagined- well, there was a first time for everything.

**.300,000,000 meters/second.**  
Jinx smirked as she watched Mallah shuffle through the line at a fast food counter. Rachel had made a few quick decisions, and Jinx was only too happy to offer suggestions about what Trigon's lieutenant could enforce. Rachel had decided that Jinx should monitor Mallah. The official justification was to make sure that Mallah wouldn't blow cover while he was under Rachel's jurisdiction. The easy nature of the assignment wasn't official. The Titans would stop by after an early evening patrol just as Jinx was done for the day, and she'd have an evening with Victor. Until then- she openly tailed Mallah, and waved cheerfully whenever he glared at her.

The big guy was not used to being low man on the totem pole. It was obvious. He was trying to intimidate her with a fierce look from clear across the food court. She made sure her reply of a sweet smile was visible. A little research proved that Monsieur Mallah (a very idiotic and alliterate name for a Russian mobster, she thought- she was saving the comment for when Mallah needed an extra push) had a temper, and fought very sloppily when angry. He already was seething to be under the command of a "green seventeen-year-old" (and had turned a lovely of fury when Jinx remarked that his boss was more gray than green). His subsequent grumble of being watched over by some "snippy witch" wasn't contradicted. Really, she was flattered.

Jinx watched him eat, wondering when he would start chewing. Who would have thought that someone so big was a vegetarian? For someone consisting mostly on a diet of green stuff from some little African place, he certainly didn't use his molars much. Jinx would rather not know what all the leafy green stuff was. She knew that elephants and other large mammals ate plants, of course- she had aced the abbreviated core classes schedule at HIVE. It just didn't look natural. Jinx paused as she followed him out the exit. Some idiot jewelry vendor in the center of the mall had a fake security camera set up. He was just asking to be robbed.

Jinx had a necklace loosely curled in her hand before she even began to "browse" the kiosk. She only paused a second, giving a wistful look to the gaudiest pendant she had ever laid eyes on. What ever possessed anyone to put a gaudy red gem in the center of some bulky gold setting? That red "jewel" was paste if she had ever seen it.

"That's a lucky pendant," the vender said. "An amulet, you know."

She glanced at him, feigning wide-eyed fascination. _Now, look a touch more gullible- that's it, reach for it, pause, pull back- now, flip the price tag. _"No, sir, I could never afford something like this." _That's it. Now, you're a polite teenager. _"I'd love the good luck- but I'd need luck to have the money to afford it," she said with a smile. He laughed (_must sellers always laugh at customers' jokes? That was a very poor one) _and she said a polite good-bye. _Now, he's waiting for you- first, find Mallah. He's still looking at the drums. Pretend that you don't see him watching you- now look back. _

Jinx could have whistled as she blended into the crowd. Not only did she have a lovely little necklace that she could actually pawn off for decent money in her hand, she could re-visit the vendor and pretend to be saving up for the gaudy construction. _I could ask him to lay it away for a time- good luck indeed. I have a gold mine on my hands. _Working for Trigon didn't pay, but crime did.

"Need a little luck?"

She whirled on her heel. She couldn't adopt a fighting posture in the middle of a crowded mall, but she could stash the necklace in her- wait a second. _Since when am I holding a rose? _"Thief!" she accused, not loud yet.

"Coming from you? That man's camera might have been up, but if we both went to the security guards around here- the mall could pull up a scene. I don't think you want that. I'll just give this back." He dangled the necklace from his fingers.

Her eyes narrowed without her direction. She was focusing on more important matters- the snitch had nabbed what she had stolen. "What are you supposed to be, some good guy or something?"

"One of the best."

On anyone else, that would have sounded unbelievably cocky. From him- _great. I do believe I have one of those lost souls who wants to save the world. The _whole _world, not just folk that need it. _He was still smiling at her. "Aren't you supposed to take me to jail or something?"

"Without getting to know you?"

She stopped dead, after a quick glance for Mallah. He was sulking in the leather store. "I don't know what your game is, but you and your flower can-"

He took the rose back with a shrug before she could finish her suggestion. "Not even red roses are enough for girls anymore."

"Why are you carrying a rose around, flash?"

"Wally."

She stared at him for a moment. _Let's see- bright blue eyes, big smile, the most vibrant shade of red I've ever seen in a coat. _"Trust me, flash, sometimes nicknames are better. Back to the question- what's with the rose?"

"I travel with a circus. I work lights, sound, and special effects, when I'm not checking on safety equipment, horse trailers, and acting as assistant to one of the few divas the circus world has left."

"And that's why you carry around flowers?" She had to admit that he was evasive, but he still was saying quite a lot to a girl he had just met.

"A guy has to be prepared- and you're sure that you don't want the flower?"

"Positive. Roses have no resale value- by the time you sell them, or any flower, really, the customer knows they're going to wilt."

"So that's why you stole the necklace?"

Jinx had yet to admit to herself that she hadn't swiped it for resale. The silver charm of a perfect unicorn was something that she had admired, and never would have been able to get the legal way. Victor would love a suggestion about what she'd like- but she wasn't about to go spreading the fact that she liked unicorns. "To sell? Yes."

She glanced back over her shoulder- Mallah hadn't found anything in his size. "Are you done with the third degree? If you're not taking me into jail, I'd really rather leave. Even if you tried- you wouldn't get me in the clink. I have a few helpers who would let me out." Jinx hoped that Barbara wouldn't keep her in for long. Rachel had been keeping Oracle posted about the gang, and Jinx and Oracle were cautiously sharing info.

"You're in the gang, aren't you?" he asked.

She didn't like that look in the big baby-blues. "What's it to you, hero?"

"I was just wondering if my guess was right, and what a girl like you is doing in a gang."

"A girl like me?" she prompted.

"You don't seem the type."

She rolled her eyes. "There is no 'type' for gangs. I'm one of the more famous faces in Trigon's operation, because I'm the public face of his number two. I'm important enough to catch notice, not to kill. I bet that you wouldn't know the big members if they passed right by you in the mall."

"You mean- like Mallah and Rouge? They're in town, right?"

"What did you say?" Jinx asked. _Idiot kid- give him a chance to fix that. _"That is classified information, flash. If a girl high up as me heard that you're name-dropping like that, I have to report you or risk charges of low-level treason. I didn't hear that, okay? I just hope you weren't stupid enough to call the cops."

She read the protest in his eyes- the kid needed a mask or something. "You were. Great. Did you by any chance talk to Barbara? Barbara Gordon?"

"No."

"Marie?"

He nodded.

"You're in town with the circus freaks, you said. Stay low, get someone to buy you a knit cap, ditch the bright red, and you just might live out the week. She's a gang informant. By now, Trigon probably knows all about you."

He gave her another discomforting look. "You shouldn't be involved in all the crime, Jinx. You could be someone."

_That's enough. If I hear one more piece of cliché I'll-save-you tripe, I'll turn him in myself. _"Look, flash- I _am _someone. You pull a stunt with roses and expect me to cave? What was that, romance the villainess 010? You're not to a 100-level course yet. Here in America, that means you lack basic skills."

"I can learn."

_Great. I gave the kid an opening. _"Not from me. If you get in trouble, call 9-1-1, ask to speak to the police chief on Titans business, and get yourself help. This is the end of my involvement in your life, flash. Don't die, okay? The last thing I need is more paperwork."

She left him, striding quickly towards the exit. Mallah was on his way out, pressing a small cell phone to his ear. That was when three things happened.

Jinx sped up so that she was ten feet behind Mallah as they exited.

Mallah turned around to grant her yet another glare.

Wally ran up behind her to give her the rose.

"West," Mallah growled when he saw the kid. "Rouge wants you. Wally West, isn't it? The Boy Scout who narced gang business to cops."

_Run, _Jinx urged silently. It was no good saying it out loud. That would be a much heavier form of treason. _Come on, flash- the lug's heading towards you. Don't look at _me. _Yell for security. Kick him. Run into the crowd. Knock me over and get out the door. _She was left to sneer just a touch, as expected- there was no reason to let Mallah get suspicious. For a lump of muscle, Mallah was surprisingly careful with details. It was probably the diet- he didn't act like any meat-and-more-meat thug.

Of course-Wally didn't run. Mallah caught him very easily, and a very strong grip on the kid's forearm meant that he would be going nowhere fast. "Mallah," she said slowly, while he was calling base. "We should move this outside."

"Yeah- thanks, Jinx," he half-grunted.

_Okay, gorilla-man isn't completely hostile to people on his side. There's only one problem- I really would rather not hand flash over to Rouge. _Jinx knew exactly what happened to narcs in Rouge's gang. She had done fairly well, in Leadership Tendencies- but career opportunities with such a vindictive force hadn't appealed to her. The Russian mob made Trigon look easy-going.

"Jinx?"

She rolled her eyes at Wally. There was no way to tell him that she wasn't this far into the gang. She knew that she wouldn't go far, with this attitude- but she'd rather just let him go with a warning and put a few scares in place. What use was reformed and dead? "It's nothing personal, kid. You just were clever enough to give your name to the nice police operator instead of leaving an anonymous tip. You gave me your occupation. What did you think would happen when you tangled with a thief?"

Mallah snapped his phone shut. "Rouge meets us in ten minutes, out in back. We're going to have to cross the mall and go out by the food court."

Jinx kept her cool. _You'll think of something. _"I don't think he'll make a fuss, if he knows what's good for him. You do have those darts with you, right?" Mallah was best with physical force, but he had a set of brutally effective darts that were much more subtle. Rouge only hired the best, and the best knew more than one way to kill a target.

He nodded, leaving explanations to her. She was the senior operative in the situation, and now he knew that she had talked up the kid. He probably thought she had convinced the guy to chase after her, away from the crowd. Security cameras would show that there was no compulsion for him to follow.

"If you try getting away, or drawing attention to us," she explained with a false cheer that was just as effective as absolute cold, "my friend here will kill you. Maybe it would be nicer, since you would die fast. But- you're the hero type, optimistic and all. I doubt you'd do the sensible thing and ask very nicely for us to just finish all of this now."

Jinx was very uncomfortably reminded why she usually worked with Rachel to avoid such situations as she led the way through the mall, Wally just behind her. Mallah was ready for any funny business. Jinx just wanted a way out. She put her hands in her pocket, presumably to keep her hands on a weapon. Instead, she tapped out a speed-dial by memory. He would know what that meant, when she called and disconnected without a word.

She wasn't disappointed. Her phone rang seconds after she hung up. "Mallah, you can watch him solo for a minute, right?" she asked. It was a pity that she'd have to lose getting sense out of the big guy. Maybe if they did pull off this little get-the-informer stunt, he'd be easy to deal with. As it was- it wasn't worth it. Rouge's admiration wasn't worth some kid's life.

"Yeah."

"Good- I have to take this." Jinx answered quickly- let Mallah think she was talking to Rachel. "Hello. Do you need me right now? I'll be done in ten minutes."

"Jinx, what's going on?" Victor asked. They had made a partial agreement about how to get across ideas- but he had no idea. "I'm with the Titans. We're all suited up. Where do you need us?"

"Mallah and I caught an informant, boss," Jinx said. Rachel would be able to know this, and Mallah would expect Jinx to show a little deference. "Rouge will pick him up in ten, by your favorite back entry- yeah, the mall backlots."

She kept moving, drifting behind Mallah so she could keep an eye on his reaction. The monkey-man wasn't as stupid as she would like. She mouthed a "sorry" to Mallah as she pretended to listen to a long speech.

"Jinx, do you need us there?"

"Of course," Jinx said. "I'll be ready to help you with that when we're done here- I don't know. Do we need back-up, Mallah?" she asked.

"I don't think so- not if the kid wants to stay conscious."

"No, but thanks, boss," Jinx said. "We won't need extra bullies- Mallah and I should be fine. I know, I know, security concerns- but he's just a kid stupid enough to get involved with our police tattler."

"We'll be there, Jinx," Victor promised. She could hear brakes squealing. "Give us two minutes. Do you need to look innocent?"

"Yes," Jinx said. "I am sorry to cut you off, but I need to pay attention to the kid- there are people around, and we need to make sure there aren't last minute tricks."

"Starfire's on it," Victor said. "Robin will provide sound effects- you just fall over when Star pretends to hit you."

"Got it," Jinx said.

"Be careful, Jinx," Victor said.

"Always," Jinx said absently. "Okay- through the food court, and then out between the- taco and the veggie place, do you think?"

"I'd really rather not-"

Mallah cut Wally off. "We're not interested in your opinion- and that's a good place, Miss Jinx. You're not half as green as you seem."

She shrugged. "Appearances are everything, you know- and surprising people is half the fun." She took Wally's arm. "Act natural, Wally. Mallah, fall in ten feet behind us- we need to look casual." _The kid hasn't tried a thing- he's just looking at me like he's some eight-year-old with a stolen bike._

Jinx had a three second window, once she was through the door. "Act scared- but the Titans are coming, flash." She winked. He had no reason to trust her, at all. All he had now was a bit of hope. She didn't feel at all guilty about that. Rouge was forever punctual- and Victor had promised her that he would be here. She could trust him. Even here- she knew that Stone would come through for her.

Wally was about to say something. Jinx didn't let him- there was no need to give the game away. "I wouldn't recommend running," she said. Her posture was entirely angry, her expression smug- but she meant it. If he went running through the alleys, she wasn't sure that she could get the Titans to him in time. "Mallah, when will Rouge be here?" _Come on, Stone- I need you here in one minute. _

"Six minutes, she said, but she might be faster."

_Great. Now, not only will I need to explain that my little relationship with Victor is only known to Rachel, I need to make sure Mallah's the guy who gets the blame. _"I don't like gaps," she said with a frown. "The kid's not doing anything. I can watch him- it's not like we're having trouble. Do you want to lead Rouge in?"

"That might be best," Mallah said. "She hates to wait."

"Oh- and be careful, Mallah," Jinx said. "There's some psycho group of vigilantes around here. The gang's been under reorganization since you and Rouge and Brain came in, so they've been quiet. They're nosy."

"Don't we have anyone inside there?" Mallah asked.

"Yes, but they're sticking with five. Slade screwed up with his plant- he chose a girl with a bad past, then tried to get her to betray the team. Since the team was nicer- well, Slade's lucky to be alive. It's only been speculated what happened under all that rubble, but Trigon doesn't take subterfuge against him well. Slade was plotting something pretty heavy- he and Blood wanted to overthrow Trigon. I think you've heard about Blood."

"I did."

"He's normally somewhat sane, so he's not too bad," Jinx said. "I just wouldn't recommend betrayingTrigon's organization. He doesn't like people going against the mob."

_Kind of like what I'm doing right now. _Jinx wished that she could tell Rachel that she needed to be incognito for this. Jinx had pretended to be talking with her boss. If her boss was in the car with the Titans- Mallah certainly could figure out what you added to two to get four. When Mallah could put that together, he would blow her cover- well, she just might have to skip town and be a good little citizen.

Jinx heard a screech of tires. She cursed, loudly, just for effect. "That's the Titans- everyone in Forston knows how their driver takes corners." She watched, searching the car- there was Cyborg, Beast Boy in the passenger seat, there was Robin and Starfire- _thank you, Rachel. Please keep out of sight, wherever you are. _Jinx wondered what Rachel had said, to avoid this fight.

"What should we do?" Mallah said, calling again. "Rouge is still four minutes away."

_Good. _"Damnit,we need her here_ now._ Do you want offensive or defensive?"

"I don't play defense," Mallah rumbled.

"Then you go after the Titans. I'll watch the kid." _Couldn't have suggested worse for the gang myself- and now, it's his idea. Later, I can mention that I've fought the Titans before- successfully, before Blood and Slade's little plot broke up my team. _

"Titans, go!"

Jinx stayed back, and rolled her eyes. _Richard, Richard- lame lines like that don't help. Titans go what? You're missing a word- but battle cries aren't supposed to be logical. _She watched, interested, as four Titans fanned out. "I wish I'd nabbed some popcorn from the food court," she remarked quietly. "This is going to be quite a fight." Jinx looked angry, but that was for effect. There was a security camera pointing at the fight, and Rouge and Trigon would be watching.

He was clever enough to back away a little, against the wall. "You're a bad girl, huh? Bad to the bone, bane of law enforcement, terror of Forston?"

"Shut up," she said, but not acridly. "Watch the fight. Mallah's an idiot- he really should have kept himself for defense, since he could have just killed you if the situation was really bad. I know the Titans better, after all- he's never fought them."

"So, why are you in all this crime? You don't seem to like dead bodies."

"Of course I don't," she said briskly. "They smell, tend to litter streets, and mean lots of paperwork for someone. Sometimes, that's me. As for my reasons- don't try to figure them out. I give Stone a hard enough time. I'm saving your hide, and that's all you need to know." She didn't have to worry about anyone reading lips from the tapes. She had reviewed tapes from this location, and the cameras were still the same. They would see grainy images that couldn't be clarified.

"Stone?"

"That would be Cyborg," she said. "The big guy- watch that kick. He led with his left. Mallah's going to have a bruise tomorrow- I've fought Stone before." She leaned against the wall. Robin had his staff, again- really, Slade had been stupid to arm the boy with that. If Tara hadn't listened to him, then a goody-two-shoes Boy Scout like Robin would never do it. She winced in sympathy when she heard the clang of a staff. The blow behind the kneecaps sent Mallah tumbling forward.

"Starfire's been waiting for that," Jinx said. "Now, it's time for her- her punches are strongest, but she needs a target. She hangs back until she can really help- and one-two-four, he's out. She has a left right left-right combo- the third punch you can't see without cameras." She stretched as Mallah fell to the ground, unconscious. "I'm going to fight the Titans. Starfire's going to take me down- she fights best when angry, and she did just take down Mallah. This won't look suspicious- and you are not allowed to defend me. Got it?"

"Jinx-"

She closed his hand over the red rose. "I'll be okay, flash. Do you really think I'd put myself in extra danger, saving some hero or other? Next time- anonymous tips to police, find a less blinding shade of red for your coat, get the knit cap, and don't try romancing someone who's already taken."

He guessed. "Stone."

She stepped towards the Titans, pausing for a second to talk back over her shoulder. "I'm Cyborg's girl, that's all- now, if you'll please excuse me, I have a fight to lose."

Wally had never seen the like. She was facing four people. No one was holding back. She did last a full minute, blocking the people who ringed her, before Starfire stepped forward and repeated the punching pattern. From his angle, he could tell that the punches only touched hard enough to leave a bruise. The sound- _that would be Robin, punching his arm where the security cam can't see._

She fell. Cyborg checked her pulse. "She'll live," he announced. "Stop by my place whenever," he murmured to the unconscious girl.

"I will," she said, not moving her lips. She was unconscious, after all- but only to the security cameras and Rouge. "Tonight at about- ten. That's how long it'll take me to convince the high-ups that the kid got away on a fluke. I'll be fine, no fretting- now get him out of here. Rouge is due in ninety seconds- she's punctual."

"Come on, Wally," Robin said. "Oracle knows all about you- she's already burying your records. According to a police report that the inside person of Trigon's is going to find, you were here under a false name. For all official purposes- your real name's Bartholomew."

"Bartholomew?" Wally asked.

"You're with the circus, aren't you?" Robin asked. "I'm sure you've heard worse. Get in. You're in the back seat center, just in case Star and I need to bail fast."

"I'm with an acrobat of the ring's right now," he said as he buckled his seatbelt. "I can't even remember her latest ring name, but her real handle's Mary Lloyd- she dropped the Grayson before I ever met her."

"Cy, do you want to drop Star and I off near the kid's hotel?" Robin asked. "He came into Forston with my mom. Since we met him here, I think that my mom just might have to meet Robin and Richard."

"Yeah- we still need to pick up Rachel. She felt bad about it, but she had to sit this one out. She didn't say much, but I think she just wasn't up to this fight," Victor said. "Did you notice anything, Gar?"

"It wasn't physical- she wasn't limping or anything, not that she would. If she was hurt, she'd go out of her way to hide it. That's how I can find if she's hurt," Gar said. "I don't know what's been going on, but she's been quiet since- since Jinx called you, actually. Her phone went off a minute later."

"I don't think anyone on this team can be normal," Richard pretended to grumble.

"You would want someone normal?" Kori asked, pretending to be hurt.

"No! I mean, I- um-"

Kori smiled. "I thought so- Victor, here's the hotel. We'll change next door- it's probably better if Starfire and Robin don't walk into the restaurant off the lobby."

Victor stopped the car. "Rachel should meet us a block from here- Wally, don't wear that coat outside. If you must, at least keep it in your luggage until you skip Forston. Keep inside and make sure you maintain a very low profile."

"Yeah, yeah- that's what your girlfriend said. Thanks for the lift."

"No problem- and my girlfriend?" Victor asked.

"Jinx." Wally shrugged. "Well, she said she was 'Cyborg's girl,' and she was keeping a pretty close watch on you during that fight. Goodbye, Cyborg- and tell her thanks for me."

"I will," Cyborg promised.

"Come on, Cy- time to move." Gar looked through crowds in the business district of town to find her. "There's Rachel." She was coming to the car. He didn't get out to open a door for her. After that first day, she had been much cagier in public.

"I'm sorry, Gar- I have to go home," Rachel said. "I know that we were going to go out, and I am sorry, but my father needs me home ten minutes ago." She was safely uninvolved with the Wally West fiasco. From the details she had heard, Mallah had taken the lead from Jinx- and the entire affair had gone downhill. She had to try to get Jinx free of blame, Mallah not too mad, and no renewed efforts to find West.

"Oh." Gar knew that his parents would understand. They had planned a meet-the-girlfriend dinner, at Shelia's insistence, but it could wait. "You are okay, right? You've been looking sad since the morning after the wedding. You don't- regret anything, do you?"

"Never," she said. "Don't think that- I don't regret a single moment. I just have a few- issues to work out at home. My father listens to my input, now, and I'm around to make sure there aren't any inter-department fights."

"Tomorrow, maybe?" Gar said.

"Definitely," Rachel said. "After school, if nothing else- thanks, Gar." She never had gotten into the car fully. "This is pretty close to my house- I'll just go in the back way. Goodbye, Victor, Gar- I'll see you tomorrow."

Victor waited until she was out of sight to bring the car out of park. "Richard and Kori are meeting his mom, Jinx is taking on Trigon and the other big names, and Rachel backed out of a commitment." _I'm just going home to do physics homework. Vectors are easier to figure out than friends._

"It's not like Rachel, to go back on something she said, so I know she has a reason," Gar said. "I'll just stop here- I think that it's about time I had a little talk of my own."

"Right by the hospital?" Victor asked.

"Exactly," Gar said. "Thanks, Victor."

"Anytime."

Victor definitely would be working through the next chapter of physics. Even electrical vectors would be less complicated. _Rachel and Jinx are both AWOL on their own little missions, Richard and Kori are about to meet another person from the circus, and Gar isn't due at the hospital for treatment._

He picked up his cell phone when it rang. The distraction was very welcome from a particularly frustrating problem. If particles were four angstroms apart, why did he care about resultant force between two electrons? "Hello."

"You sound happy to hear me," someone teased.

"Jinx- how's it going?" _Okay, maybe physics can wait. _

"I'll be out of here in two more minute. My boss has been running interference beautifully, and I'm in the clear. Mallah's not much in trouble, either, by the way the phrasing went. The warnings posted about the Titans weren't strong enough, that's all- so, no one's in trouble, and you guys have a better rep."

"You know, Jinx- you don't _have _to prove that you're bad. You saved someone's life today." He knew that she would not be comfortable with that, but he had to say it.

"Stow it. The last thing I need is to start blushing about whatever compliment you're trying to con me into believing. I still have a few formalities to close up- right now, it's Trigon and the second-biggest gun. We'll clear up this mess, I'll get someone else to do all the paperwork, and then I'll be over there. You are worrying about your friends. Someone needs to snap you out of it."

She paused. "Can you pick me up in about- twenty minutes, say? Over by Hayes and Main."

"I'll be there- it'll be an honor to cart you about today. I'm pretty sure you've saved the day already. Now, the fair maiden is offering to rescue me from physics."

"I told you to stow it," she grumbled, not at all fierce. "Keep one person away from Rouge, and suddenly everyone's coming way too close to hero-worship."

"You are a hero."

"Okay, that's it. You're not allowed to make me blush, pretend I'm some good girl, harass me at work when I really can't be cheerful, _and _use the voice."

"The voice?" he prompted. _This sounds interesting._

"I'm hanging up," she announced quickly, just before she did.

No matter how serious the day was- it seemed that she did have a weakness or two in her armor, and he couldn't help a smile. _This isn't over yet, Jinx. Someday- who knows? There's no need to move too fast. Lightspeed romance is over before it ever starts. At our rate- we'll have something for a long time. But, for now- twenty minutes, which is plenty of time to debate just what she meant by 'the voice.'_


	48. Crossing the Board: Part Two

_This is a long chapter. The content discussed is important- and just consider this monster of a chapter a going-away present, because this is the last update before I go on vacation for over a week. I'm leaving you for warmth- but don't worry, I'll keep working on the story. Who knows- maybe I'll have a few inspirations and fill in a few details for the later plot._

**Chapter Forty-eight: Crossing the Board, Part Two**  
Rachel glanced through a written report. "Why are we making a fuss? All that caused the mishap are small errors out of internal control. I wasn't a witness to this. I was meeting with a few contacts when Jinx called me." She and Jinx had needed only a few glances to set up their story- they had worked through a fast signed language.

"Mallah underestimated the Titans, Jinx should have called for backup," Trigon said. "I understand that she was offered thugs- by you, in fact."

"She could hardly know the Titans would show up," Rachel said. "She was splitting a reward bounty with Mallah already- bringing in thugs would only cut down her payout."

"She should have worried less about the payout and more about achieving the pay," Rouge snapped.

Rachel suppressed the urge to give the woman a contemptuous eye roll. Even if the gesture would be satisfying and deemed appropriate by her father, she did not want Rouge given motivation to snoop around Rachel's off-duty life out of revenge. "She did very well. I will not have my agent ridiculed. She had a confirmed name from the kid, had the boy chasing after her, and got him through the mall without fuss. She must have known that standing alone against four Titans wouldn't get her far. She is good- but she's not up to facing four fighters used to her tricks. One had a pole arm."

"If you are implying-"

"That your man made a mistake," Rachel cut in coolly, "then yes, I am. He should have prioritized. Had he remembered the darts he carried instead of charging in like a muscle-bound henchman, he could have easily have taken out at least three Titans before the fourth was in range for a close fight. Even if the fourth was carrying the staff, he and Jinx could have proceeded to disarm the Titan while watching their captive."

Rouge's eyes narrowed. "My accomplice did what was best. I expressed concern before this assignment that _your- _agent, as you call her- would not be up to strict business."

"Is that why you were speaking to my employee?" Rachel asked. "Yesterday, before any orders were given- there is a reason that I had her tail Mallah. She's a quick thinker, and balances out his bulk. He also has brains, of course- but if he had not taken the initiative to command what was her operation, she could have brought him back." She decided to not mention her role in the decision. Once Jinx had called, Rachel had bailed to meet with fictitious informants. If she was in the car when they found Wally- well, that would not have been good for him.

"Your precious employee was easily defeated-"

"By a group of four who took down Mallah while she kept Wally West- or whatever his true name is- from escaping. We have repeatedly watched the video feed. If you will insist on blaming Jinx, I will make sure that Mallah is held just as responsible. If you insist that Jinx faces your Russian methods of correction, I will meet with both Brain and Mallah. It's only fair- Jinx is my only subordinate with knowledge of my own little ring of illicit activities." Rachel didn't remember standing, but here she was. Rouge still was taller than her- but Rachel had more power, in this situation. "Do not criticize my employee without reason. That, Rouge, is an order."

"You have no power to order me, _child. _You have yet to become an adult, and you would do well to remember your superiors."

Trigon paused a moment. His daughter stood her ground- all he would be doing was clarifying matters. "Rouge, you work as the liaison between the Russian and Californian markets. You are especially in charge of shipping through the Bering Strait area. You are not the head of your organization. You do accept that I am in charge, correct? Technically, I retain charge while you are in Russia. If you forget your place, perhaps I should send someone back with you to oversee operations."

"I do not doubt your authority, Trigon," Rouge said, her eyes never leaving Rachel.

"My daughter will become a full partner in a little over a month. Even until then, she is my second-in-command. You, Rouge, do not rank that highly. Listen to her."

Rachel should feel- something. Her father had just given her an incredible amount of power. Instead, she would like nothing better than to flee to Gar's house. She had canceled a date- but maybe it could still happen. She had convinced her father that no one was to blame, and no further reprisals would be sought. A few documents Marie had supplied proved that Bartholomew Allen II had fled town in a speeding car. The description given by the officer was too clear to be anyone but the informer, so the official explanation for the event listed Wally West as a false name.

"Of course," Rouge said, biting the words off.

Rachel looked at Rouge's reluctantly extended hand. "The next time you want to send out a mission, you need clearance from me. This will apply to any and all missions initiated in this country, or to occur in this country. I had to get cops friendly to our cause to the scene, and hide them from Oracle. I don't know who this Oracle pest is, but she has some kind of feed in the station." Rachel hated lying- but this was necessary. Barbara was safe, and would remain so. Rachel didn't move until Rouge withdrew her hand.

Trigon smiled at his daughter. Such fire, such defiance- when she realized just where she belonged, she would be an asset to his organization. "Rouge, leave us." He waited, not that Rouge would be foolish enough to attempt to eavesdrop. "Rachel, that was most impressive. Mallah repeated Jinx's half of the conversation back to us, and he mentioned how you suggested backup."

"Rouge was moving too fast for us to have much time to talk. If I had thought of it, I would have offered to supply guards."

"You're lying, Rachel."

"I don't know what you're saying, father. Rouge had an extremely rushed schedule. She meant to leave little room for West to escape- or was he Allen?- but instead she left no room for Jinx to create a plan," Rachel said.

"You would have let him free," Trigon said.

"Well, he's certainly no use dead," she retorted sharply.

"Is he? If we let one little rat live, then all the cowards working for us will go to the police- but that's what you want, isn't it?"

"No!" _Yes. _"If he was a _scared _little rat, then we wouldn't have this problem. He would have to be grateful for the mercies of the gang," Rachel said, amazed that she could keep her voice steady. _That's it, hold it together. You can relax once you're at Gar's house. _"Instead- he has escaped, without a single mark. Which is the worse option?"

"Cleverly stated, Rae."

She didn't care that he was taller, stronger, and larger than she ever could be. "Do not call me 'Rae.' You were present at my christening- and it is a far more fitting thing, to use a Christian name. You already say I am too soft, but you use pet-names." If she wouldn't let Gar say that, she certainly wasn't about to grant her father the privilege.

"You will be amazing, Rachel- and in time, daughter, we will be comrades."

"Will that be all, father?" she asked. That sounded like a dismissal. With one of those- she could leave, without causing any later trouble. All she wanted to do was go somewhere she could be safe, accepted- wanted as a person, not some criminal executive.

"I know that your little Titans will not be patrolling tonight. I'm sure that one friend means as much as another- you know better than to involve yourself with one of those little pastimes, I hope. Of course, a girl your age needs companionship- any in the organization would be honored."

She froze. _He can't know, he can't- I've been too careful for that. _"What do you mean?"

Luckily, he misunderstood the pause. "Rachel, I heard that some silver-tongued reporter tried something most unfortunate. There are to be no worries. He has been taken care of. It is always good to have contacts inside the psychiatric wards."

"Good," Rachel spat. Inside- she was not angry. She quelled feelings of nausea. _I don't care what he did, I didn't ask for this- I need to talk to Barbara. This might just be talk. _She knew it wasn't likely, but she had to comfort herself. Taking care of business left only a few possibilities, none of them pleasant.

"It is natural to be lonely, Rachel- you are one of a kind, daughter. No one else is like you. You have your own way of seeing options and solutions- together, we will be a team."

"And what if I did find a boy, outside of the organization?" she asked lazily. "The ones involved in our operation are either nerdy braniacs with only planning skills, muscle-rich blockheads who only likeparts of a girl, or sleazy grease-backs who think they're crime's gift to women."

"Then he will either rule as your subordinate or be taken care of by a few of my best agents," Trigon said. "You can't expect a third leg to fall back on, Rachel. This organization is your life. Until you can learn to embrace everything that is a part of this- you are alone."

"I know, father." She sounded introverted, and that wasn't an act. She remembered what Gar had promised. He had sworn she would never be alone- she was for the moment, but that was for his safety. With her father in a mood- she would just have to wait out the night, to avoid suspicion. There would be no telephone calls to ask how the fight with Jinx had been- especially when she had no good reason for avoiding Mallah. Her mother would understand.

She found her mother in the kitchen. Rachel gave her mother a few specifics before Angela hushed her. "Rae, love, we're going out to eat. No bugs, no spies, no interference," Angela said. "It's time we had a mother-daughter chat, all about how you can find a nice boyfriend in this gang." It wasn't until they were in the restaurant that Angela asked. "Now, who's this boy of yours? I saw you come back beaming two nights in a row."

"He's a Titan with me," Rachel said. "I don't want to get into details here. I know that I like him, and like being with him. But- I don't know if this can work. Trigon said-"

"Stuff what Trigon says. You probably shouldn't proclaim love in the middle of a busy plaza, of course-"

"Mom-"

"But there is no reason that you can't have a boyfriend, and you can't just break up with him because of your father. You are not going to let him control your life. Is that understood?"

"He's in danger. I told Gar that he would be in danger, but he wouldn't-"

"Listen? Of course not. Did you tell him why?" Angela asked.

"No," Rachel admitted.

"He doesn't know who your father is?"

"Not at all."

"How could you have gotten this far along with that as a secret?" Angela demanded. "What do you say about your father? The fact that you're forever being called away for odd missions? Do they know that you're the reason that Jinx is safely employed?"

"I told them that Trigon is an FBI agent- don't look at me like that, it fit best, Victor and Gar saw my father once and don't know his name, they don't ask me about odd things I do, and Jinx has been keeping my secret," Rachel said.

"That certainly can't be easy for her," Angela said. "Rachel, when will you tell them?"

"I can't," Rachel said quietly.

"You certainly can," Angela said with a frown. "I don't care if you do it by letter. Hand Gar a copy of your birth certificate, if you have to. It's not commonly filed in records, but 'Trigon' is written in the father field."

"No, I can't. I can't lose them."

"You can't keep them with a lie."

"It's hard, mom. How many people did _you _tell about Trigon?"

"Don't lecture me on my mistakes, Rachel!"

"Don't tell me what mine are! You've made the same ones, _mother, _and you've only recently took an interest in my life. I'm supposed to just listen and except your divine maternal wisdom because you decided to start taking notice?"

"No, Rachel- you're supposed to not make the same mistakes that I made. Make new ones. Everyone will make mistakes, after all- but there's no need to make mine over again. Will you at least consider telling him?"

"I will think about it- and I'll try."

"That's all I want, Rae- try."

"It's just hard, mom, and I don't want everything to change," Rachel said.

"Things will change when you tell them, Rae- but it'll be for the better. Aren't you tired of hiding?"

"Yes."

"Then, when the moment comes- you need to be ready to make a change."

**.Things Change.**  
If he ever had the inclination, Garfield Logan could probably find his way to room 310A in the hospital with his eyes closed. He had yet to see signs that anyone else visited the room, and never found a nurse changing the constant IV lines or adjusting the respirator. Maybe it would be far too easy to find this room blindfolded, with the steady wheeze of the breathing machine and the constant feedback of heart monitors. Those noises were part of the background, nothing like the blasting music that he had heard before.

He still remembered that time, when Tara Markov had betrayed them all. He still remembered the way the acrid fog burned as he breathed, the feeling of a kick slamming into his side, the way that he had realized what Tara had done a fraction of a second before her foot collided with the side of his cheek. His hand traced his temple, just before his ear. He remembered the bruise that had crept into place there, and how he had invented a story about tripping over Christmas lights.

He took a seat at her bedside. There was little in the room. The tray between her bed and the window held a long-dried bouquet that no one had removed, and the card the Titans had left neatly taped to the side. If Tara ever woke up, she would see that card. She might not remember the Titans- or how to read the letters T-A-R-A to find her name. She still would see the card, alone next to wilting flowers, IV stands, monitors, and a single chair that had an increasingly rare visitor. Gar didn't know that he was the only visitor, for sure- but Kori had told him about her last visit, Richard and Victor didn't seem the type, and Rachel still refused to talk about Tara.

He remembered Tara, and the sugary-sweet infatuation they had shared. But- Tara wasn't just memories of milkshakes and sloppy kisses and bright brassy arcade tokens. Tara was smoke and danger and napalm. He still could remember waking up.

"_Garfield Logan, if you don't wake your skinny ass up, I will personally make sure that every last person at your funeral goes into a pity trip about the poor boy stricken with cancer," Victor threatened._

_Gar barely understood the words. The sounds slurred together into an indefinite mumble. "Have you been drinking?"_

"_No. Have you been smoking something?" Victor demanded, grabbing his friend's shoulder. "I would like nothing better than to shake you violently, but I need your help. Kori's working on Richard. He's unconscious. I need you to try getting Rachel to wake up while I call Barbara."_

_Belatedly, he remembered what he knew. "It was Tara, she-"_

"_I know, Gar. I heard her talking to someone, and she's not in here," Victor said._

_Gar put on a brave face, even if the room was dark. Maybe, if- _when- _they could see each other, he'd be practiced enough to begin fooling someone. "We can worry about her later. We need to get out of here."_

"_I know, Gar- you focus on Rachel. I doubt anyone has the strength right now to carry her around, and she could be hurt. She was the last one hurt, I think- she has a few scrapes that are still bleeding." _

_Gar listened as Victor made the call, amazed that his friend could keep a steady voice and quickly rattle off information. "Rachel, come on, it's time to wake up."_

"_Touch helps," Kori said softly. She was slowly having luck with Richard. "Richard, come on."_

_It took a few tense minutes. He and Kori worked as Victor talked on the phone, working around the halting reception the basement offered. "Help is coming," Victor said. "And Richard, it's time to wake up."_

"_What?" Richard said. _

_Gar assumed that was what Richard meant to say, at least. Really, the sound was incoherent. That was enough to encourage Kori, who promptly hugged him. An impulsive hug from Kori woke Richard up very quickly._

"_Wh- where are we?" Richard asked._

_Gar ignored the quick explanations. He instead used the faint light of Victor's cell phone to find Rachel's cheek. If it had been light, if anyone could see- he never would have been daring enough to run a hand across her cheek. "Rachel," he said gently._

_She stirred. He yanked his hand back, overbalanced, and caught himself just before he landed on top of her. "Get off, Gar."_

_He hadn't known that he could be relieved- she was okay. Rachel was okay. _

"I don't know if it was fair, Tara," Gar said quietly. Usually, he only remembered- but it was only fair to talk things through with Tara, considering what was on his mind. "We were dating, and at least were supposed to be crazy about each other. You had just betrayed us, my face really hurt, it was dark- and I felt better when I knew that Rachel was okay. Were we lying to each other all that time?"

She didn't respond, but he had expected that. Tara merely looked serene, as she always did. He had to imagine any response she might give- but what would she say, to something like that? He thought he had known her- but she was working for Slade all along, and her motivations remained her own.

"I don't understand you at all. I know that you had days, after you and Rachel made up, that you'd go out of your way to make everyone smile. How could you do that, and be everything, and make us all muffins because it was Thursday- and then just abandon the team for a villain? That goes against everything we ever fought for, Tara, and I don't know your motive. It wasn't me- was it you?

"Remember, in that basement? You could have killed me."

_He knew that he'd never move that support beam. Even on his best days, he was not the team's heavy lifter- and his leg was trapped at an angle that wouldn't make attempts to free himself easy. He only glanced at the Titans once before turning to face Tara. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He had gotten them out of that closet with a third-class detective trick of a hairpin for a lockpick. It was someone else's turn to save an impossible situation. Richard looked like someone had smacked him in the head with a heavy object. Victor could see what was coming, and no way to avoid it. Kori- nice Kori, who had made the Titans friends when they were all so different- was already crushed. _

_It was Rachel that his eyes stayed with. She didn't do emotion, she often told him- but she did. For once, the stark dim lighting proved this. It was in the way her eyes were wide, her mouth drawn, her stance scared- scared for him? But then he watched Tara, and he watched as Tara discovered which side she was on. _

"You did it, Tara, in the end. You saved us- and other people, so many other people. I told you, didn't I? A pawn can become a queen, once she crosses the board. If you had been given time, though- what would you have done? You didn't need Slade. All you needed was someone to accept you. You've killed, Molotov- I've read reports, about how your explosions murdered. You always left town- from all rumors, you didn't mean to kill people. It's nice, that you had better intentions- but there's a problem. You did kill people. Whether or not you planned to murder, you still created bombs. You are not a nice person, Tara- except you were.

"You and Richard understood how hard it is to deal with people just sure that you're a freak. You and Victor talked about cars until my dad's ears would bleed. You and Kori went shopping, talked about boys- you were the closest she's ever come to understanding her sister. Doesn't that matter to you- and Rachel. You knew her big secret. You know, the big dark secret bartered against your work with Slade."

He looked at her as she slept peacefully, beyond any reproach he could offer. "Was it worth it, Tara? You let Slade direct how to make that bomb- I've found police reports. He would take responsibility for how many died. You would create the concoction- and kill the only people to ever accept you. What did you want?

"Whatever it was- I don't think it was being in a coma for two months without any sign of stopping. I know that I've visited a lot without saying a thing, I know, and I'm giving a last-minute warning. I won't be coming by, Tara. I never promised that I'd stop by every week. Even if I had- I can't keep doing this. I have to get on with life, and other people need me.

"I've heard that people in comas hear all that is said. Well, I hope you do. I hope that when you wake up- I still think you will- you know to be happy. Countries change, people change- things change, Tara, and you haven't.

"Maybe I'll never know, how you could live like you did- and maybe I don't want to. All I know is that I'm ready to move on, Tara, and I can't get your opinion. I can give you mine- and your Christmas present. It's late, perhaps, but I don't know if it'll ever be opened unless I give it to you. With comas lasting this long, you could forget who I am, or who you were- and maybe that would be kinder."

He ripped away the wrapping paper self-consciously, even if no one was watching. "Here, Tara- this is what I would have given you, that night." He reached across her to set the jewelry box on the stand beside wilted flowers. "Excuse my arm," he said, not that she knew he had intruded on the space he usually left her. "That was something I made- I don't know if you'd even like it, but I know you like silver, even if mirrors were things you liked to avoid. The real present was inside. Anyone can buy a girl a jewelry box. I bought something to prove that I listened.

"I bought a hairclip," he said, holding out the object. It was small, and didn't seem a fitting tribute to a sleeping maiden. "I know you like blue- and this would match your eyes, if you'd open them. You like monarch butterflies best, because other butterflies imitate them and they're strong enough to fly against the wind, but those don't come in blue. I remember how often you brushed your hair out of your face. Remember, how your hair always fell over your right eye? That night- as Titans call it now, all we ever say is 'that night'- it was over your left. It's funny, how the most insignificant details matter."

He clipped her hair back, remembering years of younger foster sisters. "There. Now, when you open your eyes- there won't be any hair in your way. I didn't come here to give you a hairclip, Tara. I came here to say that I'm sure what I want to do, now. You know how I was, when no one else could hear- and I know that you were convinced that someday, we'd leave. Maybe you were right- but this isn't a reason you would have guessed.

"I don't even know if you can hear me, Tara, and maybe it would be better if you left town. Slade's still around. No one knows how he lived, but he was around to cause more trouble. For now, there's some sort of truce or something. I'm sure that I've used the wrong word, but Rachel and Jinx understand. You know Rachel's big secrets, and I'd never ask you to share. I hope that she'll tell me- because we're dating.

"I know you and Rachel didn't get along," he said, just as quietly as he had said everything else. "Well, maybe you did at the end. She trusted you, Tara, and you turned around and betrayed us. She was much more crushed than she let on. She cares about her teammates, Tara. You were a teammate. Maybe it's silly of me to try and explain- but maybe someone needs to do tell you."

He held her hand gently, careful to not dislodge any tubes. As always, her hand was cool and unresponsive. "I wanted to explain this to someone. I already am dating Rachel, but I still thought that someone ought to explain everything to you, and I wouldn't ask anyone else to do this."

He stood. "I remember, Tara, how you looked when you told me to go. If there'd have been time, I know you'd have needed a hug. As it is now- you'd get your IV lines in a tangle. You're going to find someone, Tara. I found Rachel- and you knew it was her, didn't you? Maybe that's why you always acted so jealous. You shouldn't have, Tara- if we'd have known you, we'd have been friends."

It was easier, now that he'd talked- he still remembered, and it still hurt, but it all was a memory. This conversation would be a memory- someday, he'd forget exactly what he'd said. Years from now, he might remember that he had said goodbye to Tara. Now, all he had to do was say it. "Goodbye, Tara." With that simple farewell, he looked at her, one last time. He fixed the memory of her serene in sleep, and imagined a smile onto her face. He turned around, walked out the door, and headed for the elevator. He waved to the employees and patients he knew on the way out of the hospital, and didn't need to squint in the sunlight after the brightness of Tara's room.

Garfield Logan never looked back.

**.Circus.  
**Victor had planned to head straight to Hayes and Main- but he drove a half block out of his way when he saw a familiar face. He rolled down the window. "Gar, are you heading home?"

"Yeah- I'm done at the hospital. I was just making a visit."

"What is wrong with you? It'scold out." Victor stopped the car. Gar stopped walking. "Now, get in here before you freeze to death. Just because it's March- it still is winter, you know, and you're way too scrawny to be around without a coat. Rachel would skin me, if you managed to catch pneumonia."

"Okay, okay."

"Not the front- sorry, but that's for Jinx."

"I see how it is- I'm getting ditched for a girl," Gar said.

"Sorry, man- but she's prettier than you are." Victor felt much better when Gar smiled a little. _Good. He's been acting moony since Rachel didn't fight Mallah with us, and he doesn't usually brood for long._

"Well, there's a compliment. Tell Jinx that and see how far you get," Gar said.

"Tell me what?" Jinx asked, slipping into the car. "Thanks, Victor- this is actually on my way to the intersection." She sized up the situation after craning her neck for one look in the backseat. "What's up with you? You look like Rachel ditched out on a date or something."

Victor was too late to stop her. _"Jinx-"_

"She did," Gar said.

"Did you happen to look at her face?" Jinx asked. "The girl had to have been devastated. She is crazy about you. Head-over-heels smile-when-no-one's-watching drive-a-friend- nuts-talking-about-said-guy requited-long-lasting-crush happy."

"She _is?" _Gar didn't think that Jinx could mean Rachel Roth.

"Yes. Now, what's this that Victor should tell me?"

"You're prettier than Gar is, that's all," Victor said. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Who's paying?" Jinx asked. She glanced at the two of them. "Gar needs to be cheered up- and Stone already has his wallet out. Good for him- and relax, Mr. Chivalry Junior, you can cover the second round. I think that you both could use some good old-fashioned feel-all-better-inside food."

"So, where am I driving?" Victor asked.

"The circus," Jinx said. "No arguments, you know you both want to go- besides, if I see one hint of a certain blue-eyed redhead, I'll pound him into next week. There is no way I want to be involved in a three-way power pull again- Trigon and his protégé against Rouge. It was completely unsafe. But- back to the man of the minute. Gar, if you don't cheer up and start telling jokes sharpish, I'll have to embarrass you with a few observations that Rachel couldn't hide from me."

Gar was lost in all the words. "She just didn't want to go to my house, that's all. I'm fine."

"Hogwash," Jinx said plainly. "To both parts, actually. I talked to her just a few minutes ago, by phone- she was out with her mother, but I wanted to check a few details. She and Oracle talked about flash, and if I'm going to be involved in saving a hide, I want to make sure it stays saved. Rachel wanted to go your house, but she knew it was wiser to not get her father worked up- and you are not fine with this, but you should be."

Victor couldn't imagine where Jinx had learned to talk so quickly. "Jinx, I think you're confusing people."

"Okay, let's go for the basic summary. You, Garfield Logan, like Rachel Roth- right? Don't fuss at me, just answer," she ordered.

"Right."

"She likes you- right?"

"Well, I think so-" Gar began.

"Right or wrong- none of this I-think business. I'll even answer for you. She likes you. Would you like a concrete example to prove that she wouldn't just leave a date?"

"Yes."

"That's more like it- just for that, I'll give you three. One. She does not like going back on her word, a promise, or even an agreement. Two. She told me that she wished she could just be eating at your house- she likes your home much better than her house. Her monster of a house never has been 'home' to her. Three, and most tellingly- I bullied her into reapplying lipstick at the wedding. Kori had to help her, of course, but that was just so I could get a little proof on my hypothesis."

"How is three a reason?" Victor asked. Gar seemed to get it already, by the hints of a blush creeping into his face.

"Easy. Gar came back from around that corner grinning like a loon- and with a smudge of lipstick on his left cheek." Jinx grinned, triumphant- but Gar knew what she meant. For the moment, she let the matter lie. "From other talks, I know she's also hugged you- when you were there for her. She was really impressed with you before the whole Malchior fiasco, you know, about how strong you are," she said.

"Me?" Gar was sure now. He had fallen asleep- hopefully, he was at leasthome.

"You. Now, are you going to be all fussy, or are you going to accept my knowledge of the girl and have a good time at the circus?" She read the look on his face. "The only reason I know all this stuff is because she talks to Kori and me about such things- you know more about her than you guess."

"I think you talk to Rachel more than I do, some days," Gar said.

"Jealous?" Jinx beamed at his sputtering remarks. "Don't be. We just talk to each other about silly little details. She sympathizes with plights I don't share with Victor- you wouldn't believe how silly Trigon is about requisition approval for feminine hygiene products in the manor restrooms… see? You're both blushing, which is why girls talk with girls about some things."

"Okay, okay, I give- I'm done brooding," Gar said.

"Good," Jinx said serenely. "Now, let's go to the circus, eat unhealthy food, try to watch the action in three rings at once, and mercilessly tease Gar because Rachel kissed him."

"Hey!" Gar was laughing even as he protested.

Victor smiled- everything was fine. How couldn't it be, with Jinx there to find a way? "Gar, you didn't tell me about that…"

"No fair to have two on one," he objected. "I'm used to three on one, but this still isn't fair."

"Three on one?" Victor asked.

"Rachel counts for three people- and I'm sure she can do worse than both of you put together," Gar quipped. "So go on, do your worst," he challenged, striking a heroic pose in the backseat that would have looked silly had he been standing and holding a sword. Sitting in a car with his arm tangled in the seatbelt-

They didn't know who had started laughing first, but they had to wait a few minutes after arriving at the circus before they could leave the car. Jinx had attempted to imitate the look and had nearly knocked the rearview mirror out the window, Gar had dredged up a few jokes that deserved a laugh, and Victor started impressions from the driver's seat.

"Where do we go first?" Gar asked.

"The main attraction is Richard's mom. She's in the last act- but if we go back and center, we should be able to see her." Jinx had charmed the information from the ticket booth operator with just one smile.

"Right where the food vendors come out," Gar said, glancing at the seats she pointed to.

"Well, of course," Victor said. "What would a circus be without junk food?"

"It would be like a bad comedy show without a laugh track," Gar said.

"A T-car without an engine," Jinx said.

Victor feigned a wound. "Blasphemy," he said shakily. "Jinx, that was just-"

Jinx grinned when he started laughing. "You never can keep a straight face through jokes, Stone- come on! Let's go get seats- I'll race you. Sometimes, you can't worry about the world, and you just have to be a little kid again. I remember-" She paused, tapped Victor on the shoulder, and ran up the stairs leading to the seats. "You're it!"

Gar followed at a slower pace- for once, he wasn't the third wheel. They all were friends- Victor and Jinx were just very clearly infatuated with each other and not ready to admit to anything serious. Watching the pair choose seats, he amended the thought- Victor was ready, and waiting for Jinx. Jinx was ready- but wouldn't say it. _And they tease me- well, I'll show them next time. Next time- Rachel will come with me, and we'll both tease them until they give up and admit they're a little more than friends that kiss._

By the time he reached the top row, after stopping frequently to watch a few acts, they already were already working their way through a mound of pink cotton candy. "Come on- pass over a chunk." Maybe Rachel still had a few secrets- but he couldn't hurry her up in telling them. Until she was ready, he'd have a good night even when she wasn't there.

"Pass over a chunk yourself," Jinx retorted.

Gar snatched a section. "Don't mind if I do." He watched Jinx as she eased under Victor's arm. Those two certainly looked cozy. "Oh- look. I think I'll go get some popcorn." _So they want a chaperone, huh? They look happier with me sitting here- and Jinx's eyes just went huge. _

"Now?" Jinx asked.

"You don't have to," Victor said quickly.

Gar kept the smirk to himself. "Oh, but I _love _popcorn," he said. "I'll see you guys later- who knows, maybe I'll sit up front and watch the clowns. It's a better view, from the first row two sections over- have a nice night, guys." He would have to tell Rachel about this. She never seemed to run out of material- but it would make him feel better, knowing someone had the verbal upper hand on Jinx.

**.Flying.**  
The young man with mussed black hair at table twelve had come to the seating podium seventeen times. The hostess had done her best to be patient, but she was very tired of answering his perpetual question. No, no one has asked for a 'Richard Grayson.' She had been ready to get her manager when his female companion made her way up. Instead of asking the interminable question, the girl had explained that his mother was supposed to meet him here, and that she hadn't been heard from in at least twelve years.

After that, the hostess understood. No wonder the poor boy was pacing so- she told a waiter to give them drinks, on her. He took one look at the kid and shook his head. "On the house, Kim. Look at the poor guy- we could get Antonio out here. He'd understand."

"You're sure, Brad?"

"Even if he does mind- it's a mother-son reunion. Good publicity, happy customers, better tips, more desserts to excuse lingering- I'll take care of them, Kim. You keep watch for the mother."

"I will." She turned to the next customer, scanning the line for a single woman. "Next, please? Party of three? Smoking or nonsmoking? Please wait a moment and Bradley will take you to your table. Party of four- five, okay, I'll make sure to pass along the message. The Graves party, yes- nonsmoking, you'll be to the left- just give Patricia a chance to grab menus, please. If the next in line would tell me how many people you need..."

"She's not coming, Kori."

"Don't be silly, Richard- she'll be here. You said she sounded happy on the phone."

"And you know how good I am at telling how people sound."

Kori glanced at the hostess. "You're doing much better- now, settle down or I'll have to distract you."

"What, with crayons?"

She frowned at him as he glowered at a neighboring booth's collection of children, busily coloring in the paper menus. "No. You are being hostile because you are nervous, and you need to relax. If you were paying any attention at all to body language and its implications on the meanings of sentences, you would know exactly what I meant."

"I'm sorry, Kori- but she was supposed to be here ninety-six minutes ago."

"I know, Richard." She sipped her drink. "It was nice of the waiter, though, to get us free drinks- because that was twenty minutes ago."

"Twenty-two."

"You have gotten better about being so quantitative, but you're worried- and it's straight back to numbers and facts and counting. Just- trust her, Richard."

"I don't even know if it is her. For all I know-"

"Your father distanced himself from her, so she'd be safe. There is nothing to gain from pretending to be her, and you are being just as paranoid as Rachel." She smiled at his reaction. "You have no reason to worry. Now, do you still need to be distracted?"

"I think I know what you mean- and if that's it, I think so."

"What about first impressions?" she asked pointedly. He had been fussing for the first twenty minutes about what the mysterious mother figure would think of him. He finally had deigned to occupy the same side of the booth- but had forgotten that worry entirely when he realized how late she would be.

"She'll just have to like me or not anyway," Richard said. "I don't need to worry about this, right?"

"I'd worry about her if she had a problem with you," Kori remarked a few minutes later. "She's still not here- and you were worried she might catch you."

"She'll just have to accept that she wasn't around to enforce her own parental doctrine, that's all," Richard said.

"You're going to be fine. She'll like you."

"Like's the best I can hope for?"

"Like is better than love, sometimes," Kori said, forgetting that he was teasing. "She loves you, of course. You're her son. That's the kind of unthinking love that people often have, it's- love, and that's the end of it. Then, there's the kind of love that you feel, even for someone who has done wrong. After everything- I love Connie. I just can't stand her, most times. Like and love at once- well, that's something else."

"Kori, have I mentioned that you have to be the best with emotions on this team? You're definitely the best that I've met- and I was raised by Bruce. You're some kind of extreme."

"Selina's working on him, and Rachel is better at telling when people are hiding emotions," Kori said, but she smiled at the compliment all the same.

"She doesn't do nearly as well with them, though- not unless Gar's there to help her through. She's as bad as me, for not knowing what to do. You, Kori, always know what to say- and you're the best person for keeping the peace."

"You're much better about speaking your mind and allowing nice thoughts," Kori said, mostly to give herself something to do besides blush. "No matter what happens- be Richard. Don't be the perfect son. Just be yourself, and she will love you."

"Richard?"

That wasn't Kori. "Um- hi?" He stood quickly, nearly tripping over a table. He had never expected this to happen, ever. _Okay- childhood fantasy number three is going on, right now- didn't you have something prepared? The parents never split, dad never died- she came back. You used to know how this would go. _"Ms. Lloyd?"

Mary Lloyd nodded, quickly covering up a flash of hurt as she formally shook his head. "Richard Grayson."

He nodded. "Richard John Grayson, yes- and this is Kori. Kori Anders- she's my girlfriend."

The situation was no less awkward when Kori and Mary had exchanged the requisite handshakes and smiles. _Come on, Mary- you're supposed to be good at dinner-meetings. Where's the ice-breaker? Something funny, witty… _"You're real, Richard- you're a man, and I missed it. All of it." _Or sad and honest- way to kill the mood. This can't be some little idea of your darling little boy running into your arms. You left him, remember? He's lived without you more than with you. _

"You still look like the pictures," he offered. That was mostly true. Her face held a few wrinkles not even cleverly applied makeup could hide and there were a few scattered gray hairs in the black hair that had gleamed from photographs. She still had a dancer's body- _no, not dancer. Acrobat. _The differences were subtle, but her arms were muscled beneath her thin spring coat.

"You look like your father, Richard- but it's rather presumptuous of me to say that without proof, of course. I know your father liked every detail spelled out. From the letters he wrote about you, you are just the same."

"Letters?" Richard asked.

She set a thick stack of letters on the table, after making sure the surface was clean and dry. "He never could send them, but he wrote to me through those years. I have my copy of your birth certificate, my hospital papers, driver's license- and a letter from Jim Gordon. He's Barbara's father, you know- he hauled me into court with a subpoena, once. On the first day, I cried for an hour straight so the judge would send me off for the day to calm down. I certainly wasn't going to get the man I lived with in trouble with the law. That night, your father and I were married. The next day, when I returned to court- I didn't have to say a word against my husband. I have the marriage certificate, too- and I could describe the ring. I left that and took everything that was mine."

Richard looked through the papers. He knew a few marks of forgeries, even the best forgeries. Hearing what he was up to, Bruce had given him a refresher course. "I think I just have one question to ask, Ms. Lloyd, to prove that you are who you say you are."

"Of course." He really was like his father- the same cynicism, way of sitting, thoughtful movements.

"What is the final ingredient in a sandwich with rye bread, bananas, onions, and margarine?"

"John- your father, that is- detested rye bread, was allergic to bananas, couldn't stand onions, always used butter without care for his cholesterol, and to a sandwich like that- he would add honey."

Richard grinned. "He hated to even think about onions- I remember going to a restaurant and leaving for another place because someone was eating onions." Kori knew all was well, so she was the first to slide back into the booth. "You got married in the middle of a court case?"

"Well, we had been living together for a month," she said, pausing to ask for water when the waiter offered a drink. "I'm on tonight, so it's just water for me. I can show up late for call- they save me for the finale act. I'm the only famous solo act. Your father tried it for me, once- after I did it with him, no one else could match up. He had the irritating tendency to be good at everything."

"I wonder who _that _sounds like," Kori said, playfully elbowing Richard in the side.

"Ow!" he said, doubling over. "Kori, you're way stronger than you look, you know."

"Oh! I'm sorry, Richard, I didn't mean-"

"Kidding," he assured her.

She saw the grin on his face and scowled. "Next time, I really _will _elbow you. Then, you will have reason to whine."

Mary smiled at the two as she took a few sips of water. She knew that she shouldn't have, but she had paced outside the restaurant for almost two hours, wondering. That's when she had run out of cigarettes. That was the one thing about her John never understood. _'You're cutting seven minutes off your life every time you do that, Mary.' _She could never understand why he could put himself in the path of bullets to go be some kind of anti-superhero in those gang things of his. _'Organized crime, Mare. Say it with me. You like organized, don't you? That's half the business.' _Finally- shehad knownthat she would never forgive herself, if she didn't meet her son.

"Oh- about your wedding?" Kori asked after a few more exchanges of squabbling. Mary had been watching them, but Kori doubted Mary's mind was on them. "Sorry to interrupt."

"It's fine," Mary assured her. "I was just wool-gathering. He sounds so much like his father, that's all."

"But, about the wedding…" Richard was curious.

"Well, we had been living together for a year, on and off," Mary said. "He was out on bail. He shouldn't have been, of course- but the criminal justice system was entirely corrupt, back then. The day after I burst into crocodile tears to get out of proposing, I decided that I might need to give my proposal a little extra weight. I had a feeling that had started about a month before- so, on a lark, I found myself a home pregnancy test."

"Positive?" Kori guessed.

"Bingo," Mary said. "I went out and chose a nice ring for myself and called John. He showed up at the jewelry shop. I told him the results and where he could find three different tests to verify my findings- he was very thorough, John- and showed him the ring. He agreed he could afford it, and a kid. That's when I told him that I was going to make an honest man of him."

"Was he honest?" Richard asked.

"Sometimes," Mary said. "I never knew what to think about him. He would lie in a heartbeat, when he needed to- but he hated lying to me. But, that night, I put on the only white dress I owned, he dressed up nice, and we went to go visit city hall just before it closed. By the next day- I was married, a baby was on the way, and I didn't have to testify in court. I was quite pleased with the arrangement."

"Would you do anything different?" Richard knew the question would be awkward- but he had to know, and he couldn't wait.

She thought for a moment. "I've wondered and wondered- but now I know the answer. No matter how much it hurt me, hurt you, and hurt him- this is what happened, and I don't want to think in what-ifs. All I know is that I know from just a few minutes of talking that you're the son I've always hoped to find, and that I wouldn't trade you for a few years of never having a care. You're who you were bound to be- and you're noble enough to end up with a slightly calmer girl. I was all hellion and diva and daredevil. You, Kori- you're a warrior, somehow, but you know when to be mad."

"Did you practice that on the way over, mom?" Richard asked with a smirk. That was the only way to respond to that- people didn't usually converse in statements like that. _Wow. Okay, childhood versions, move over. I think we have a winner._

"Of all things to get from me, you get cynicism and sarcasm. Great," she said. "Any secret talents you'd like to tell me about?" She had to admit to herself that Kori's response was worrying- there went the elbow again. "Richard?"

"Well- it's a long story, but we have time, right?"

"We have time. We might have to interrupt to head to the circus for my act, but after that, I'm open. What's the story?"

"Well, first- have you heard about the Teen Titans?"

"The kids with costumes the circus might have supplied?" Mary asked.

Richard shrugged. "Hey- they work, don't they?" He had to ask. "Who do you think is the worst?"

"Well, the Cyborg guy drives better than our stuntmen, Beast Boyseems the kind of guy that can crack jokes during a press conference and be ready to fight the next,Raven looks like she could probably beat you up without touching you, Starfire has to distract the male population of Forston while she knocks them senseless, and Robin looks like a Christmas tree going to a masquerade ball," Mary said. She watched his face- _gotcha. _"Would that be you, son of mine?"

"Maybe," Richard said with a smirk she recognized. The you-got-me-but-I'll-not-admit-it-yet smirk, the one she had first seen on a man attempting to break into her circus trailer.

"Okay, start talking," Mary ordered. "I want to hear this story, and I probably have the authority to send you to your room, wherever that is."

"With Uncle Bruce."

"That old stick in the mud?" Mary asked. There was no way, if he was this outgoing-

"Bruce has been much more relaxed since he began dating Miss Selina Kyle," Kori said, keeping a grin at bay for a few seconds.

"No way- I think that we'll need to rack up quite a phone bill, Richard, with all this going on around Forston. I'll be traveling, of course- but I can always wander back here between tours. For now, though, as interesting as the thought of a relaxed Bruce is- I want to hear about you. My son's story ought to be interesting- any child of John's and mine would be." _My son- it's really happening._

"Well, I'll skip over the early bit of history," Richard said. "I'll sum that up later. Really, everything important started happening on August 29th last year, the second day of school. That's when I met Kori- in detention."

"Detention?"

Richard nodded- his mother was a good audience, with disbelief and curiosity in all the right quantities. "Of course, there were a few other people in there- but Miss Kori Anders was the most beautiful girl I'd ever laid eyes on-"

"Richard! That is most certainly not how it started," Kori said.

"It is, too- I just didn't admit it to you for a long time afterwards, that's all," he retorted. "Anyway, back to the story- nothing much happened that day, but Kori just wouldn't quit. She's the reason- yes, you are, Kori- that I met Victor and Rachel and Garfield- yeah, Gar's parents probably wanted him to be teased, and I can't tell the story with both of you interrupting."

"Sorry," Kori said, but she didn't look very sorry.

"I'm not- he'd probably never tell it right without prompting," Mary said. "So, somehow, you all became heroes who elude the nation's attention. To the rest of the country, you're rumors."

"We weren't heroes for awhile- first, I had four friends for the first time in my life. It just took me a long time to figure out that they were friends."

"Richard-"

"What do you mean, for the first time?" Mary asked sharply.

Richard sighed, but the effect was ruined by a smile that refused to leave. "As I was _saying-_" he continued, sounding fully exasperated. Of course, he didn't mind- not at all. His mother was there, and he knew that he had changed. What's more, he liked the person he was now- and the people he was with now. He didn't need to get rid of his past. He just needed to figure out what had gone wrong before to move onto new mistakes. Progress was a wonderful thing- and a little sarcasm never hurt.


	49. Where There's Smoke

_I never guessed that I'd hit this many reviews. At one point, getting one hundred was a big mark. The current total's 1020, and I'm not done with this story yet. Now- well, you guys will just have to make sure I have a few standards set. Let me know if the plot skips a point, and I'll try to clear everything up- this is about to become a bit more complicated. I'm still leading up to the big fight, which should cover a few chapters, and the bigger finish- no hints about what happens to whom. Just trust that I'll get all the little plot ends tucked into place eventually. _

**Chapter Forty-nine: Where There's Smoke…**  
"If this is not important, hang up before I figure out who you are."

"Uh- Rae?"

"Oh- sorry, Gar." _That'll teach you to not answer your cell phone while half-asleep. _"I didn't sleep well, and I've had eight calls since nine in the morning."

"It's eleven past nine."

"That's why I'm a bit- perturbed," she said, trying to be polite. It wasn't his fault that Brain and Mallah had passed along that she had a talent for managing jobs, or that she had been awake since six. "Why are you up so early? Usually, you're barely conscious at nine past eleven."

_Okay, so we're changing the subject. _"I had a few diagnostics at disinfectant central. I'm done, and going back to sleep would be pointless when I could invite you over. Today's the pediatric oncology bake sale- Pobs, for short- so my kitchen's a war zone of flour and chocolate and eggs."

"Fundraising?" Rachel disentangled herself from her sheets. It was past time to be out of bed- she had a meeting scheduled for half past nine, and she was lucky to be awake.

"Yeah, for the no-reason party the doctors throw for the kids. Well, there's a reason, but it's just called a party. Morale-boosts are implied. Do you want to come over for awhile? All the baking will be done by the time we were going to meet over at Richard's."

Even if she didn't have the meeting, Rachel was wary about spending too much of her time in his home. There was no need to give Trigon hints that anything was happening. "No, but thanks. I have a few things to do around here."

"Chores?" He didn't remember her mentioning anything like that before.

"Sort of," she said, after just the right pause. Not too short, not too long- just too planned. "I will see you at Richard's, though."

"Sort of?" he asked. "I could help, sometime. You've helped me over here enough."

"No."

"Well, okay." That was how it always went, he knew. He would go a little farther than before, she would snap back. That was a classic toneless don't-even-think-about-going-there 'no.' "It was just an offer. You've been to my house, so I just thought-"

She didn't let him finish. "You thought wrong, okay? I'm not inviting you over. My dad's what you could call overprotective, and no one's ever going to be good enough for his baby girl without a few special circumstances. I'm not letting him put you through that- and that is what would happen if you came to my house. My mom is okay, but I'm not introducing you to my dad. Ever."

He had never thought that she would say something like that. "So, I don't get to meet your dad because I'm not good enough for him?"

"Because my father is insane, he wouldn't like you. It's as simple as that. This isn't a case-by-case deal. _No._ You're good enough for me, Gar- isn't that enough?"

"Maybe I want to meet him. Did you ever consider what I'd want?"

"No, you don't want to meet him," she maintained. "I considered what you'd want. You don't want to meet my father." He didn't know what she meant. "Just- trust me on this, would you?"

"You say 'trust me.' I want to, Rachel, I really do- but what do you tell me? You wouldn't have mentioned the Cooper mess if I hadn't taken the extra five minutes to get in. You listen to every secret I tell you- but you don't share back. I'm tired of pushing. That only leaves me frustrated, because no matter how much you trust me- I'm still in the dark. I don't even know what kind of chores you're doing. For all I know, you're mowing the lawn or feeding the pet crocodiles."

"What would it matter if I was feeding crocodiles? I can handle things in my house on my own, Gar. I don't need help every step of the way. I don't need you to push me. Maybe I just don't want to tell you a few secrets of mine. I'll see you at Richard's house, and I do have a few things to get done."

"You want me to leave you alone about this, and everything else you're cagey about," he said, voice a little too even. Was this why Rachel used a monotone so often? It made saying the hardest things sound easy.

"Yes. Is it too much to ask? Don't push, don't pry, and don't try pulling the 'trust' card. I trust you. I just don't want to talk about it."

"No, it's not too much to ask. I'm done."

"You're- done?" She hadn't thought that he would agree. This didn't fit with the planned conversation. She was a touch acerbic to lead him off that trail, he left the matter for the day, and she made up for a few snappish comments later by being a little more than civil. That was their usual pattern, where backwards compliments meant apologies. He wasn't supposed to do what she said she wanted.

"That's right. I won't try to get you to open up, since you're going to fight me every step of the way. You don't want me to, after all, and you just need to go finish a few sort-of-chores as soon as you're rid of my interference. We're done with this game, Rachel. Goodbye."

"You're- leaving?"

_What's wrong with this? She's the emotional one, for once. _"No," he said, tone softening a little. It hurt, knowing that something he said had affected her that way- but maybe it was the better thing to do. Maybe, maybe- he'd just have to learn later. For now, he ignored that she let more emotion in those two words than she had in the entire rest of the conversation. "I'm hanging up the phone, so I can go help my mom out. I'll see you at Richard's house."

Rachel stared at the phone, trying to understand why the connection was cut. He had- hung up on her. He had never done that before. As far as she knew, he never hung up on anyone. That sounded like something that she would do.

She dropped the phone on the kitchen table. She hadn't remembered the walk from her room. That was why it had seemed so odd, when he talked in that flat voice. He hadn't tried anything new at all. He had just taken a chapter from her book- and she didn't like that plot at all. Was that really what she did, time after time?

"Rae?"

Rachel did manage to not give any outward signs that she was startled, and controlled nervousness within a moment. Her mother wasn't a threat. "Good morning."

"No, not good at all," Angela said with a frown. "Did you know that you put the kettle on for tea five minutes ago, without turning on the stove?" She turned the dial, waiting until the clicking of the gas-pilot stopped before settling on HIGH. "What's on your mind, love?"

"Gar." There was no use in lying. Her mother always knew, and Rachel didn't want a full Spanish Inquisition. The usual third-degree would work just as well.

"So it's a who- I might have guessed." Angela left her daughter to thinking for a few minutes while she found a step-stool and a fresh pack of tea in the back of a high cabinet. She had two steaming cups of tea ready before she began her questioning. "Is there any reason that you delayed a meeting and have a face like that all before half past nine?"

"I'm too good at keeping people away."

"Yes, you are," Angela said firmly. Pity wouldn't do any good, with her daughter in this state. Hollow self-assurances were about as much use as feathers to a Thoroughbred. "That's why I was so happy to see you with those friends of yours. They don't listen when you're being too prickly- and don't get too mad. You inherited that from me, but I didn't choose friends well. They left when things started getting tougher. Yours probably wouldn't leave if you shooed them out with a stick."

"I should tell them about Trigon."

"Yes, you should." Angela would back up that idea without second thought.

"I should at least tell him."

Angela knew which person that pronoun was meant for. "Rae, just talk to him. You can't plan a conversation like this. Find your own way to tell him who you are, and what you are in the 'business.'"

"Half demon?"

"Nothing so melodramatic," Angela corrected with a laugh. Unlike some people in the room, she would freely let it be known when she was amused. Her daughter had reasons, she supposed. Angela just didn't understand them. "Even if you were- would that really change his mind about you?" It was time to be a little more serious. "Why don't you just tell him, Rae? I had the same reasons, remember? Holding back will only make it hurt more later."

"I know that I should, just like I should practice a few new blocks that Bruce showed me. I just put it off, even when I have no distractions to justify a delay."

"So get it done and over with," Angela said. Practicality was best, here. "What could be gained by putting this off?"

"Time."

"Rachel, your big day-"

"I know, I know, it's a month andfour days away. Trigon left a message. I need time to figure out how to ever lead into something like this. What do I say? 'Trigon's my father.' Direct, yes, but that's not going to cut it."

"As much as I'd like to help- there is no formula for introducing someone like that. You'll have to do this, Rachel, and I'd guess you don't want any audience. I know that I'd want to be alone, with whoever I trusted enough to tell."

"I trust any of the Titans, mom."

"You'd trust them with your life, wouldn't you?"

"Yes."

"That's not the same as trusting them to remember everything that your team has been through. You could keep them as friends without ever letting them be hurt if you kept a few secrets. Would you really rather live a lie with someone you depend on so much?" Angela asked.

"I do not depend on anyone," Rachel said stiffly.

"You don't have to keep up that lie with me, Rae."

"Yes, I do."

"Practicing again?" Angela asked.

"If I start saying such things here- sometimes it feels like the walls have ears. It's not safe here, mother."

"That's no reason to get all awkward and fussy with me, young lady. I know that, without Jinx, you would have twice as much work to do. Without Richard, you wouldn't have learned those new throws you mentioned last week. Without Victor, you never would have given your friends a chance. Without Kori, who would coerce you into doing 'girly' things you enjoy and look forward to? And I think we all know who else I could mention."

"What do I do, if they don't trust me? If he doesn't trust me?"

"There's not much good in ill-wishing the future- but it's always settling to have a backup plan. If they reject you- if _he _rejects you- based on that, I will deal with them."

"Um- mom, you've never met the Titans."

"A problem that can be remedied today, I certainly hope," Angela said. "That is, if you'd let your mother tag along."

"You would?"

By the look on her daughter's face, Angela had just given her a pony. That was the only comparison she could draw for such an expression. "Of course I would, and it's past time."

"They'll all be at Richard's today."

"He's the one with the messy black hair, fighting moves, and the butler, correct?"

"Yes."

"Good. A household with a butler half as capable as you say Alfred is can handle a guest on no notice without stressing anyone out. Rachel, telling people things isn't terribly hard. It's a matter of focusing on what you need to say, not how they'll react. They'll react without you planning a thing. I won't say anything to give away your secret- but I think you should tell those Titans of yours."

"Someday."

"Someday soon," Angela amended. "You won't be able to hide this forever- and however they may react to you telling them, telling certainly looks much more trustworthy than having them find out all on their own. You'll keep that in mind?"

"I will." Rachel left the last remnants of tea in her cup as she checked her watch. "I rescheduled the meeting- I'll be done with everyone by two, or I'll make everyone be done," she said. "You'll meet me, so we can go over together?"

"I promise, Rae- and it won't be so drastic," Angela said. "This isn't some spying mission. I'm going to go meet your friends, and hopefully embarrass my teenage daughter."

"Thanks, mom."

Angela knew that sarcastic tone with the almost-hidden smile. Her daughter was cheering up. "Anytime, Rae."

**.Catastrophes, Tragedies, and Soufflés.**  
Kori had learned the basics of working in a kitchen, but she had never seen Alfred at work. While she and Richard were set to make chocolate chip cookies under strict supervision, Alfred was creating something that he insisted was a soufflé. Kori was inclined to believe him, but she had never heard of such an elaborate dessert. Alfred only insisted that the fancy name that would be printed on provided labels would draw the stuffier surgeons.

She looked away from yet another intricate creation that just might implode if looked at crossly and checked the cabinet. "I believe that we are out of flour."

Richard ran a finger down the countertop. His fingertip was caked in white. "I think that most of it's on the counters."

"I think that you have produced enough batches of dough. I will finish the latest. Miss Anders, you may wish to begin scouring the flour deposits from beneath your fingernails sometime before patrol. After that incident with the second batch, I would worry that the material could harden." Richard and Kori weren't nearly as destructive as Bruce, and Selina was a force of nature with a cheese grater, but Alfred still would enjoy the return to peace in his kitchen.

"Who was on the phone while we were busy?" Richard asked.

"While you and Miss Anders were wrestling with your culinary efforts, Mr. Stone, Mr. Logan, and Miss Roth each had time to call. Mr. Stone mentioned that a guest of his may drop by later, and I am willing to take his word that Miss Jinx is fully trustworthy. Mr. Logan will be by later with his mother, and Miss Roth will be latest. Miss Roth is bringing an unidentified guest."

"What's Shelia coming by for?" Richard asked. He didn't know Gar's foster mother nearly as well as Rachel, but he did know that Mrs. Young didn't often use formal titles.

"She will deliver baked goods to the sale. All finished after her visit will be taken by later."

"So- we have a bake sale run, a technical criminal's visit, and a mystery guest going on today. We should make programs."

"Indeed."

Richard knew what that meant. Alfred wasn't going to give a reaction, one way or another, as to what he thought about the comment. The only way was to let the butler continue after a pause judged suitable by British manners he didn't quite understand.

"Perhaps you could add something to this program."

That was a first- Alfred had acknowledged the previous comment. "You could just go the Bruce route and say whatever's on your mind. You've engaged me in conversation, exchanged a look with Kori that looked entirely too planned, and you have an expression that is far too innocent. You want me to do something, right?"

"You should speak with your friend. He sounded far from his usual self."

"Something's up with Vic? He and Jinx are a little stressed, maybe, but she is coming here. Gar and I have told him that no one here would mind."

"Mr. Logan."

"Alfred, I don't think that would work so well. I'm not good at the pep talk business to begin with, and if Gar's down, Rachel has the best shot." Richard was always convinced that he was a sentence away from botching the entire talk, and trying to understand the issues in the couple left his head spinning.

"Miss Roth seems to have experienced the same stress, and that is not merely related to her guest."

"Did she give a hint?" Richard couldn't think who Rachel would bring around.

"Miss Roth will introduce her invited guest when they arrive. Until then, I believe that someone close to Mr. Logan's age and lacking in conventional tact would be best suited to any talk."

"That's quite a recommendation." So he wasn't the most polite guy around. Did everyone have to point out every shortcoming he had?

"I did say conventional tact, which implies that you could have tact of a different nature. You also can be rude and tenacious enough to find the root of a problem. Besides this, I cannot imagine there is a good reason for how few conversations you hold with Mr. Logan."

Richard should have known. "You know, Kori is taking a really long time to wash her hands."

"You also notice details such as that, which is an excellent credential for a pep talk that need not be of the motivational variety."

"So, you and Kori cooked this up together- probably while the power mixer was going crazy. The two of you decided that I'm the best target for getting involved in this. If I mess this up, Rachel will harpoon me."

"I highly doubt that she would use a harpoon when something as simple as an inelegant butcher's knife would be handier, and she does not seem nearly as inclined to random violence as you say. Mr. Logan rarely misplaces aggression, so you will be safe. When a fitting opportunity presents itself, I will address Miss Roth. As she will arrive with guest, my chance will not come today."

"Who did nominate me for this deal, anyway?"

"During your distraction with the power mixer, Miss Anders inquired who had called. Learning that Mr. Logan had sounded uncharacteristically unhappy, she elected you for the endeavor."

"You talk like you've just swallowed two dictionaries and a thesaurus, when you want something. You could have just asked me to talk without all the over-elaborate setup."

"Elaborate or not, we felt that success was more likely with a lead-up. I will cover all bake-sale related queries. Will you talk to Gar?"

"Now that you're asking- sure, and it wouldn't kill you to use first names more often." Richard thought that he almost saw a flash of- something. It was rare, to catch an expression in Alfred that wasn't smug, suffering, or neutral.

"If you say so, Mr. Wayne."

_Okay, so he's still Alfred. _"Any advice?"

"Be yourself, be rude if you have to- and there are no gentlemanly rules to speak against hitting at the belt."

_At the best- interesting. _Richard kept that in mind on his way to answer the door, and hardly noticed that Alfred was already bringing a tray out to Shelia's faithful puttering station wagon. Now, how to keep an inconspicuous attitude-

"Hey, Gar."

"Hey."

Richard had his work cut out for him. Not only was he going to attempt to solve some problem involving Rachel's mystery problems, Gar wasn't in an talkative mood. "Are you feeling okay? You look a little different." _Way to be subtle- he'll never see that one coming. _

"Like what?"

_Great. Now, he's defensive. Nice going. _"Oh, I don't know."

"Go ahead. Guess."

"You only look off like that when you're really bothered, so that narrows it down. You're fine with the fosters, by all signs from when Shelia came in, you don't start snapping because of a past issue just because it's Saturday, you had your diagnostics this morning but it'll be fine for you to patrol by guidelines set up by Rachel- thought so."

"Thought what?"

"Only something about Rachel would make you this off, and you just about scowled when I said her name."

"So, you're the psychiatrist for today?"

"As a matter of fact, I am. Kori and Alfred nominated me. They took your call earlier, and Rachel sounded a little different, too. Bad for her and you on the same day… well, on this team, we don't run into too many genuine coincidences. What's wrong?" Maybe it was better to just skip the comforting platitudes stage. Neither of them would be fooled.

"After everything- I'm pretty sure that I hurt her feelings."

Richard took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. Maybe he could fix this by being a bit rude. "You hurt Rachel's feelings. How many times since even before the Titans has she hurt yours? I could give six verbatim quotations off the top of my head."

"That's different. She doesn't mean any of that. She gets nervous about people getting too close, so she holds people off. I know that- but I snapped back."

"So, you two fought."

"Yeah. She-"

"'She' nothing. Did she participate in the fight?"

"Yes, but-"

"No buts. We both know that she is perfectly capable of causing a fight. It's amazing that you've lasted a whole week with peace."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said- I'm impressed. She's going to fight, she's going to be hard to talk to, and she's not always going to keep her preferred control. Rachel in one of her brooding periods can drive Kori up the wall, and Kori puts up with me." Richard knew that someone else should have done this- he was losing him. "Did she sound upset?"

"Yes. That's the problem. Do you know just how hard it is to upset her?"

"She'll talk to you again. You can get her to talk about this, she'll listen, you'll resolve this. That's the usual pattern, right?"

"We're not following the usual pattern. I told her that I'm done pushing. If she needs to tell me something- that's her prerogative. I hung up on her, this morning."

"Good."

"_Good?" _

"Calm down, Gar- it's good that the two of you are ready to try something new. She'll talk to you."

"How do you know?"

"To be honest- I don't know. I'm just pretty confident. She likes you. If she didn't- would she be around? Don't get that look. I'll- I don't know what I'll do, actually. She doesn't need you to mope around. You need to talk to her."

"How confident are you?"

"Kori used that on me, a while ago. All at once- no more leading questions. She'd just talk about her day, her past, her interests, her dislikes- and I returned it, just so it wouldn't seem odd. Don't get caught up so much in doubts."

"She doesn't trust me."

"She does. Raven has risked pretty serious injury guessing that you would back her up, and Rachel talks to you most. To Kori, it's usually about you- and all that's complimentary."

"Why the big secret deal, then? I ask about something personal, she shuts me out."

Richard guessed that his time as counselor was done. He didn't know how to answer that question- and someone was at the door. "She doesn't trust herself, maybe- and look, someone's at the door, Rachel and guest."

"Rachel didn't mention a guest."

"I don't know her nearly as well as you do, but I'll make a guess. Did she ever say she was sorry?"

"Does she ever?" Gar did remember a few occasions, but Rachel was as bad as Jinx about apologies. That was according to Victor and Jinx both.

"Maybe she's trying to apologize in her own way. Don't take what she does so personally. She's going to snap and scorn and fight. If you're going to need to talk every time she fusses, you and I both won't have time for calculus. No one else has gotten this far, Gar- you're in uncharted territory."

"Yeah, sure."

Richard knew that was the most abrupt end to any conversation he had ever held with Gar, but that was okay. Gar was already at the door, right beside Alfred (who somehow had transported an entire counter of food outside in time to take his place at the door).

"And who do I have the honor of meeting?" Alfred asked, pitching his voice to carry so that all in the area would benefit. Kori joined Richard, deciding that the impromptu talk was over.

The visitor took his hand and replied just as clearly- if it was an announcement, she might as well be heard. "Angela Roth, and don't even try telling me that I look young enough to be my daughter's sister."

"Mrs. Roth?"

"Wait, let me guess- Gar. Yes? Good- I'd hate to mistake you, for all Rachel has talked about you. It is a shame that we haven't met before, but my house isn't best for receiving visitors right now." _Or ever, _she silently amended. "Her father is extraordinarily difficult to deal with."

"Not someone I'd want to meet?"

"You would certainly not enjoy an encounter," Angela said severely. "He's most like- a jeweler. A very destructive jeweler who likes gems and jewels. Instead of hiding flaws with new settings or a different cut, however, he attacks impurities with a hammer. If you ever meet him, face-to-face- I'd hope that he doesn't know who you are."

Richard and Kori went to join Victor in the basement, noisily. They wouldn't involve themselves in a personal conversation. Alfred retreated to the kitchen, leaving the foyer for the guests. Sometimes, eavesdropping was just rude.

"Rachel filled you in," Gar said.

"I did not," Rachel said indignantly.

"We merely discussed something on her mind- I had no idea that was the disagreement this morning," Arella said. "You brought up T- my husband as something more than a passing mention. Even if she doesn't talk about him, he is not father material."

"Oh." _Well, here's a nice place for an I-told-you-so, _Gar thought. _Her own mother says that her dad's not good company. _

"I'll tell you about him," Rachel promised. "Just- when we don't have an audience. If you'd like, that is."

"I'll listen." Gar was just as serious- maybe he hadn't messed something up after all.

"Enough serious talk for now," Angela said. "I came over to meet your friends. Down the stairs, that's the ticket." She stopped Gar for a moment. "Her father's a bad case, perhaps, but I'll speak as Rachel's parent- you're just the kind of person my daughter needs, and you have my blessing."

Gar blushed. Rachel didn't hear them- she was down the stairs before she realized a gap. "Doesn't that usually mean something a little more serious than dating in high school?"

"Your intentions are serious, correct?"

"Of course."

"Then take a blessing as it is, Garfield Logan."

"It's Gar- Garfield is for when my mom's mad at me."

"Then I insist on Angela- but we can talk later. Rachel means to introduce her mother, and I plan on meeting the others, too." Angela quickly moved down the flight of stairs. Her daughter was waiting. She could take time to admire the architecture later.

"Richard, Kori, and Victor- this is my mom," Rachel said. "Mom- these are the Titans."

**.Smolder. **  
His thoughts wandered to his daughter, as they so often did. He had been foolish, to want a son. Daughters were far less likely to rebel, he knew. He had ignored her potential for too long, but that mistake would soon be remedied. Some parents bought their daughter a nice piece of jewelry for an eighteenth birthday. He would give her partnership in an organization. His little girl would have a career, a future- a place where she belonged.

He should have involved her earlier. Even at five, she could have been so logical. He read through transcripts of her dealings with Rouge. She had spine, and could easily make her arguments seem the most natural course of action. She was clever, his daughter- she had Mallah on her side, after a few side conversations Rouge couldn't observe. Trigon hadn't been able to catch any occasions for a talk, but Brain also seemed that he would follow Rachel. If it came to an actual struggle with power, his daughter would do well.

Perhaps she had just been unhappy. Rachel had been much more civil since Angela had remembered herself. Rachel would admit who she was sooner or later. Trigon knew that she still harbored a fear of losing friends, but she had to either bring them into the organization or pull away from them. He knew what those Titans could bring to the business.

From his very limited knowledge of the four, persuasion would not go far. The Titans would not work for him; they were too set in what they thought of 'right' and 'wrong.' Even threats against Rachel would backfire, if two Titans were as incapable of lying as Tara insisted. And to threaten her to gain her teammates, he would lose his daughter. This enterprise was for her.

She might persuade them, his scathingly silver-tongued daughter. All she needed was one ally within the system, and then he would have her assured loyalty.

She wouldn't do such a thing, not yet. She still had her thoughts of high morals and such nonsense. Didn't she see that she could transcend the common thought, the cages of plebeian reasoning? She would understand soon enough. She was a success already, and not just because he would make sure no one would mar her future. Coming into the organization as muscle, she wouldn't have stayed a bottom feeder. If only she had the same upbringing of her primary employee- perhaps he should try to research just what made her voluntarily turn to crime.

Slade. Trigon would soon have Rachel to replace the onerous character, whatever consolation that was. Maybe when Rachel was of age, he could dispose of Slade once and for all. Far too many inside agents from the police who refused monetary offers came into the gang in search of Slade. A few even knew to ask for Slade Wilson. Trigon wasn't sure why the man never had chosen a pseudonym for gang work. He had gone by Deathstroke, in his days as an assassin, back before Trigon had begun the foundations of Forston's most profitable enterprise. Coming to the gang, however, as the hired muscle (trusted to have brains enough for specific and tricky tasks), Deathstroke had introduced himself as Wilson. Slade Wilson.

For the moment, however, the man was in his office. It was better to keep him as an unofficial third-in-command, however untrustworthy Slade proved to be. If not for his daughter, Slade would be second. Trigon kept those fools who thought they could rebel close until he had bled all useful information from them. Slade still thought that he was more clever than his employer, that he would pull another double-cross. Had he forgotten the fate of Blood? That fool of a man had thought that he would be spared.

"Trigon, your daughter will rebel."

Trigon decided- rather benevolently- to ignore the bitter tone Slade gave to 'your daughter.' He was perfectly aware that his daughter had not yet realized what she possessed. Soon, though, she would know. Rachel was making decisions and using what he had given her, and power was addictive in its own ways. "And what do you propose to convince her to the contrary opinion?" Trigon asked levelly. "With time, she will accept who she will be."

"With time, she will tell her friends just who she is. If the Titans are so determined that she can stand without the gang, she will have four people to fall back on. If she was startled into revealing her identity too soon, or into fully accepting her role in the gang…"

"That may work," Trigon allowed. As much as he distrusted Wilson, Slade was the most effective field operator in scare tactics. "Tonight, you're not doing anything."

"Tonight, I would be delighted."

"There will be no occasion for permanent marks?"

"Of course not."

"Scare tactics only. If there is something that will not heal completely- or if there is more than the most minimal of scars- I will take revenge for her." Trigon wished that his daughter would realize who she could be without so much work, and without what Slade would do- but someday, she would know that he loved her. That's why he did what was best, even when it hurt.

"Of course."

Trigon stood, pacing briefly to his door before stopping. He listened for a second, then shoved the door open with enough force to make an eavesdropper tumble backwards. He had a knife in his hand before the attempted spy could think to flinch.

"Why are you here? What did you hear?" he asked, spitting out the words. He should have known- no one else would be so devout in the 'protection' of his daughter. This was for her benefit. The intruder backed away, but she only had a foot to move. "Speak. I want to hear every detail you heard."

"I only heard from 'fully accepting her role in the gang,' to 'of course,'" Jinx said, parroting back the words exactly. When confronted with Trigon in a rage, and a knife pointed at her throat- it was best to be honest. "I was coming by to drop off a personal report, one that's only to be hand-carried. Miss Roth finished it earlier, and left the proofreading to me as usual." Jinx took a risk, knowing that she could be in just as much trouble if she didn't say it. "Pardon me for saying so, but I work for Miss Roth and this seems to concern her. I would feel less loyal if I had just left." Rachel would laugh, to be called 'Miss Roth,' but there was a purpose. There was no need to give Trigon ideas that they were friends.

"You are not to spill a single detail to my daughter," Trigon said. There would be nothing proved by killing the girl, and the report was in her arms. He lowered the knife and accepted the report. Jinx- that was what she called herself- held it out without a single tremor in the hands. "If you do- I will hold you responsible for anything that Slade can't show her tonight. Understood?"

Jinx hated being weak. Blood had never looked at her that way- but he wasn't her pseudo-father anymore. That was Silas Stone, odd as it was that she and her boyfriend's father got along. Looking at Trigon, Jinx resolved to spend more time over at Victor's house. It was times like this that made her appreciate good guys. "Yes." Even now, there was no need for respectful titles.

"Go."

Jinx needed no other orders. She went. Quickly. She didn't try to listen to the rest of the details. Rachel was in serious trouble, and it would take a little creativity to get a general warning out. Victor had invited her over to Richard's house, at least- that was a standing joke already. Going there wouldn't mean that anything was out of order. She left, quickly, without time for any transition tasks. She had delivered the paperwork, she was one floor from a street exit.

She called him when she was half a block from Richard's house. She didn't want a ride- that would be taking too much time away from his friends, when she just wanted to meet them all face-to-face out of uniform. "Victor-" and that was all she could think to say.

"Where are you, Jinx?"

"I'm two doors down, coming towards Richard's house."

"I'll be there."

And he was. Jinx knew just what she wanted to do, so she did it. She threw her arms around him. Something bad was going to happen- but for now, everything was okay. "I need to talk to the Titans," she said a minute later, when her pulse had settled to something like his. He always knew what to do, as far as she was concerned.

"The other four are already in the basement," he said. Victor paused. Usually, she wouldn't answer, but he had to ask. "You're okay? I won't make a scene in front of anyone, but you look a little- nervous." Really, she looked more than that, but there was no need to bring that up.

"I am a little nervous. That's why I need to say something," Jinx said. She wasn't idiotic enough to completely go against orders from the head of the business, but she was going to weave around them to help out Rachel. She worked for something else to say while he opened the front door for her, some comment to let him know that she was okay- and then he pressed something on the grandfather clock, and a passage opened in the wall. "You guys have a secret passage? You're kidding me- who built this place, the Batman?"

"How'd you know?" he asked with a grin.

"You're not kidding me, are you?" There was a bat motif in the stairs' mesh- subtle, but present. "I'm going straight into Batman's lair-thingy? Victor, I signed up to meet your friends, not to feel like I'm invading the good guy's hangout."

"Don't worry about it, Jinx- I messed around with boundaries before, and you're not under any pretenses. Now, let's go meet the nice people." His smile was only getting wider.

"You're enjoying this," she accused.

"You've met Rachel and Gar. Kori's the sweetheart of the team. Four Titans approve of you already, and Richard knows that you're on your own side."

Jinx liked that phrasing. "So, it's not an 'if you're not with us, you're against us' deal?"

"Even if it was- would that stop us?"

There he went again with the pronouns- but Jinx didn't mind. Not this time. "I'd like to see anyone try messing with us," she said- she meant it. That was going a little farther than usual, but the look on his face made it worth it. _Guess he's not the only one with a voice or two. _


	50. Fire

_When I first came up with the idea for this story, I was thinking about a six-thousand word one-shot that might never have been posted. Bored kids at band camp have some odd ideas, and throwing ideas onto a sheet of paper keeps off the boredom. This story came from a few sketches in the margins. I had Rachel's history first, as a mobster's daughter. As soon as I knew the Titans would be around- well, that's when I started to realize that this story would be a bit over six thousand words (or even sixty, which would have been a record for me). Once I created five assorted histories, I knew that this was going to be a lot more than sixty thousand words._

_This story still is rated T. I will do my best to keep violence from becoming entirely graphic, but from this point forward- it's going to be a little bit different around here. Thanks for sticking with me for the first fifty chapters- I hope you enjoy all the others that will follow. And, as a special treat to celebrate a fiftieth chapter- there's a special something at the end of this chapter. Enjoy._

Happy birthday to Lambbaby_- éste capítulo es para tú._ (Happy cinco de mayo to everyone.)

**Chapter Fifty: Fire**  
Victor decided that someone had to do introductions. "Everybody, this is Jinx. Jinx, you've met Richard, Kori, Gar, and Rachel. The lady to Rachel's right is Mrs. Roth- I don't think you two have met."

Jinx smiled, one of her many catty smiles that could mean anything from amusement to attempts at being polite. "No, I can't say that I've ever been introduced." She and Mrs. R had just had a talk yesterday about a few new suggestions for image-patrol, but that had to be a secret. Jinx personally thought the Titans should know what on earth was going on- but it was easier to keep secrets than drop a bombshell like that. Jinx wouldn't do that, on the off chance that they would react badly. She didn't want to lose Rachel's friends by botching it.

Angela returned a much politer smile. She had always liked play-acting, and that was what gang diplomacy amounted to when macho posturing was disregarded. With her reputation for missing the broad side of a barn with a pistol, she was much more effective in matching expressions to messages. "Rachel has mentioned you, and it's a pleasure to meet any friend of hers. I've been talking to her other friends for a few minutes, and they did mention that you were instrumental in getting them safely out of one fight."

"Oh, that? That was nothing," Jinx said, wishing (again) that she didn't have such a fair complexion. Blushing or too much sun left her face a bright shade of pink that clashed with her hair- and hiding a blush was almostimpossible.

"Nothing at all, right, Jinx?" Victor said, thinking of a new topic. She already was close to red, and she was nervous enough already. "So, we did move on to an entire summary of the Titans while I was upstairs for a minute?"

"Well, not the details," Gar said. "Of course, there are a whole lot of details- like Slade."

"Slade's a pretty big detail, with how often he shows up," Richard said sourly.

"You did beat him, last time," Kori reminded Richard. That put him in a slightly better mood. "That fight was amazing- except for the Rachel getting shot part. That was not nearly as pleasant."

"You're telling me?" Rachel asked, smiling a little to make the rebuke a joke. "That was not one of the more pleasant experiences of my life."

"Slade _shot _you, and I didn't hear about it?" Angela demanded.

"Old news, mom- it was just a graze, right here." Rachel traced her side. She didn't pull her shirt up the three inches it would take- that would exposing far too much skin. "And I had someone taking care of me, anyway. Well- technically, all the team, did, but one person did most of the worrying."

"Worrying," Victor said, keeping a straight face. "So, that's the new word for freaking out?"

"He was fine," Rachel said firmly.

Gar smiled. "Hey- that's the stop-it-right-now tone, and somebody else was in trouble."

Rachel considered. "It won't happen often."

"So, to get back to another interesting part- sorry, Gar and Rachel, but no one else needs to see you making doe-eyes at each other- and don't scowl so, Rachel, your face just might stick that way- you've beaten Slade, Richard?" Angela asked. "I've- heard of this fellow, and he seems quite- well-trained." Angela hoped her pauses weren't too noticeable. She wanted to say that she had harbored wishes to beat the man to a bloody pulp for a long time, and that he seemed quite too arrogant to ever have lost- but that would raise an entirely different topic.

"Once," Richard said. "I think he was too sure of himself- I don't know what'll happen the next time around."

"Slade was furious," Jinx said. "He won't lose so easily a second time. I hate to mess up everyone's fun, but I overheard a meeting today. Slade's planning something, and Trigon went along with it. I'm not exactly sure what's going to happen- but it's bad. Grade-X classified. My boss can't even hear about it," she said, looking straight at Victor instead of at the group. "Trigon ordered me to not spill a single detail. So, I'm giving a hell of a lot of general stuff. The details I know aren't that helpful, anyway."

"What are you saying?" Richard asked.

"I'm saying the Titans shouldn't patrol tonight." Jinx was serious, and she did not like the immediate wave of protests. "Knock it off, would you? Something bad is going down. Something above my boss's clearance level, and that is not a good thing. Trigon-approved scare tactics are not something to blow off."

"Scare tactics will not keep us from patrol," Kori said.

"If we don't go out, he's already won." Gar didn't understand the point. "And, even if we don't go out tonight- Slade will just come back, and we won't know to watch for him."

"But tonight, Slade is ready for you. I need more time," Jinx said. "If I had that time, I could try coaching my boss through this. If Trigon thought-"

"That won't work, Jinx," Rachel said. "If Trigon and Slade have set their mind to something, and they're not sharing clearance, it will happen. There's nothing to stop it. How would you know about something this high-level?"

"I was going to drop off a report. This report was important enough that it deserved hand-delivery to Trigon. When I got to his office, I heard details that only could mean my boss."

"So, your boss is in trouble?" Angela asked. If the Titans saw how nervous they looked, they would guess that she worried for all people.

"Yes," Jinx said, just as Richard asked, "Why should that stop us?"

"Because you don't want my boss hurt," Jinx snapped. "I can't explain this, okay? Even if I want to just tell all of you what you've been too thick to put together- I wouldn't, on the off chance that I'd bollix everything up. Just- don't go out tonight."

"Perhaps she knows best," Angela said. "Rae, I need to head back home- I just glanced at the time. I don't have long- I just thought of something that I may need to discuss with your father."

"What are you discussing with dad?" Rachel asked.

"It depends on what he was up to," Angela said, frowning. "It was lovely, meeting you all- and Alfred." She had only seen the butler for a moment, but knew who anyone who carried full glasses without spilling a drop had to be. "Rachel's mentioned him, even when the help isn't being impossible- and I do hope to meet you again, Titans, Jinx." She left up the stairs, thoughts in a jumble.

"We need to patrol," Richard continued to explain. He and Jinx had been having a quiet heated discussion under the other conversation.

"No. You need to get your ego out of your-"

"Jinx, I know you're stressed out," Victor interrupted, wishing that she could have really met his friends when tensions weren't so high. "But you don't need to attack Richard- and Richard doesn't have to talk to you like that. Both of you need to calm down."

"The help?" Gar asked.

Rachel shrugged, forcing mundane thoughts through her mind to stall a blush. "My house is way too big, so we need to employ people. It's humongous and not very comfortable, even without the garages."

"Talk to her like what?" Richard demanded. Kori put her hand on his shoulder- he forced himself to take a few deep breaths "I just told her that we're not going to be scared out of patrolling so easily- it almost sounds like she wants the Titans out of town for the night or something."

"Garages?" Gar couldn't help but ask- even without the benefit of watching her start to blush a little, the idea was beyond what he would have guessed in a house. "And you still like my house?"

"It's nicer," Rachel insisted. "The garages are all for people visiting my dad- they're picky about their cars, and the house is far too big to be of any real comfort. Besides, the heating system is not to be envied. My mom's nice, of course- but she's pretty small, in a house that big."

"Calm down?" Jinx demanded, raising her voice and not caring at all. Kori was just watching, Richard was insufferably comfortable in his logic, Victor didn't believe it- and Rachel and Gar were talking quietly, in a conversation all their own. She just needed to speak more loudly. "I came here to warn you all that somebody's in trouble. I would like nothing better than for you all to be safely out of town tonight. I think- I think that Slade might be insane enough to draw Scath!" The last word was almost a scream.

"Scath?" Rachel asked. "Do you mean- tonight?"

"Yes," Jinx said. "That's just a guess of my own- but I think Slade is capable. Don't you?" she asked, not caring if she was nasty. All of them were so happy to just ignore what she had to say- like she was some kind of crazy Cassandra. Well, that girl had been right, too. Jinx had told them good intel before- it wasn't like she was thought a liar. If they didn't want to believe her- fine. She could leave. "Call me later, Victor, if you feel like it. I'm going back to Trigon's loony bin- where people at least believe me when I risk my neck to give them a warning. Good night," she said firmly. She didn't care that it wasn't yet three in the afternoon- she didn't want to hear from him until after patrol.

Gar didn't watch Jinx storm from the basement. He didn't see Richard frown in thought. He didn't know that Kori comforted Victor with a hug before drawing Richard's thoughts into words. He just knew that Rachel was still paler than usual. "Rachel, what's wrong?"

"Something," she said. "I'm not sure what- but Scath is nasty business." Her stomach turned at the thought. "Only a few people know what that mark looks like. My father showed me, a while ago, so I've learned. There's a bunch of superstitions behind it, but there's a rule that all people follow, in gangs. If you draw that mark- it means that you've killed."

"But- you're okay? Jinx was looking at you, more than anyone but Richard." Gar wasn't going to push her- that was what he had said, wasn't it? It was harder than he had thought.

"I'll- explain it, later," Rachel said. "But after patrol." She wanted to make sure that she was there, in case Slade used any other symbols she would know.

"You can't say it now?" he asked, sympathetic. She kept her promises. If she said that she'd explain later, he'd just have to be ready to listen.

"When it's just us, I'll tell you," she said, half to reassure herself. "I don't want to have to worry about them, too."

"You don't have to worry about me, Rachel."

She refrained from comments that would force her to explain or leave him confused. "I'll try not to, then- it's just hard, that's all."

"And, um- no hard feelings about this morning, right?" He had to know that much.

"None at all." She stretched. "Richard's holding a practice- I think the Slade talk made him nervous."

"It made me nervous."

"And I suppose that I'm supposed to say that I'm nervous, too?"

"Not if you don't want to."

So, he did mean it. He was going to leave off. "I am, a little. I'll explain why later, when it's just us. You deserve to know." He would fight her on that- she could tell by the look in his eyes. "I want to tell you, anyway- maybe I just like that excuse of making this about you." She wouldn't think about it any longer. She would tell him. His reaction was for him to figure out.

**.Inferno.**  
"Still no signs?"

"Nothing, Robin." Cyborg glanced both ways at the intersection, pausing. "The streets are dead this side of town. Oracle started to mention something about 16th and Hayden, but she cut herself off and started yelling something at Tim."

"How's your view, Starfire?" Raven asked.

Starfire laughed. "You know perfectly well, Raven- not much so on either side, but straight ahead…"

"You can make Robin blush later, ladies- as much as tease-the-leader is a fun pastime, Jinx doesn't get worried easily," Cyborg said. "Beast Boy, do you have anything?"

"Oracle just sent a picture, courtesy of Tim switching a few things around in the image controls- it's a big image, loading up now."

"Star, are you looking?" Robin asked.

"Yes."

"What is it? Where is it?" Raven asked.

"That is an aerial shot I just got in. The wife of Trigon gave me the lead, if you'd believe it- this is the place I mentioned. Head to location, please. Tim ran the picture to you. I want you all to look at it- Trigon's wife didn't give detail. Well, she gave some, but I want to see if any of you have a better idea," Oracle said.

"What is it?" Starfire asked.

"It's arson done in a pattern." Oracle's voice sounded over a rattling of keys. "Tim's calling in a few sources for me, I'm running a check- I only know the name of this symbol, and cross-referencing is turning up too many files for me to do a quick check."

"It is some kind of pattern," Beast Boy said. "Maybe Slade messed upan S?"

Raven looked at the image on her communicator. "No, he didn't mess up. That's the mark of Scath. That's what Jinx mentioned." They already were too late. All they could do now was make the night's ending a little less tragic.

"Yes, that's it," Oracle said. "Please tell me that you know something- my servers draw a blank."

"It's a gang symbol, for Trigon and all his employees. Only the most trusted know it, and only idiots like Slade would use it," Rachel said. "Written out, in any form, in any medium- somebody died."

"Died as in dead?" Robin asked.

"Died as in we're going to need someone from the coroner's office with a body bag," Raven said. "Oracle, how many people were in there?"

"Four. The electricians stayed late to finish sending wiring up to the clock tower. One of the three left is on the phone with the 9-1-1 dispatch right now. They all collaborated on the description- Slade did it."

"Do you have police there?" Starfire asked.

"Yes, but they don't have a chance of facing down Slade. I'm not going to get them involved with him. You guys have a good shot- and if you can engage him in a fight, we can get the civilians out of there. Don't get hurt, got it?"

"Yes ma'am- and exactly where am I headed?" Cyborg asked.

"There's an entrance on the- south edge of the place, close to you. Just make a right at Hayden and you'll be there. Slade's in there somewhere, and I want you all to be careful," Oracle said. "This city needs you guys around- Trigon's been running less operations through petty ways, since you started."

"Thanks, Oracle, but we're here," Rachel said. "Let's move. Robin, you're close?"

"Fifty yards east of you," Robin said. "We go in as a team."

"Where are we heading?" Cyborg asked.

"Go for the center," Oracle said. "There's a clock tower, there- that's the tallest point in the complex. All the housing structures are two stories, that thing's four. They're in there, bottom level- but if you find Slade, try to distract him long enough to let my rescue squad snatch him out. The _instant _those guys are safe, I call you, you leave."

"Got it," Robin said, tossing his helmet aside. "Everyone's ready?" He glanced at them- they were as ready as they'd ever be. "Remember- Slade's on a scare campaign, he has something nasty to cook up- and somebody's dead. Raven, remember the warnings- no snapping, just be careful. Beast Boy, your priority is Raven. Everyone else can focus on civilians- four is plenty. Titans, go."

Raven, however disgruntled at everyone's idea that she needed to be protected, stayed with the group. The sprinkler systems installed inside the construction zone had done their work, and the charred remains in this area were coated in soggy ashes. The northeast sector was still live fire, but that was far from their target. They didn't need to approach that area. "He's probably nearby," she said. "And be careful, when he finds us- he's not going to be easily beaten, especially after you trounced him, Robin."

They kept moving, always wary- and no one was there. Raven led the way when they reached the clock tower, with Robin as rear-guard. She asked to be first, but not to find Slade, or even to be first to find the electricians still in the building waiting for rescue. She found a blanket that had covered a piece of expensive equipment. It was only slightly charred, and would suit her needs.

"Oracle, I found him," Raven said quietly when she saw the body. She didn't need to clarify. Robin was with her; the other three were watching as police guarded the other three. She tucked a blanket around the man. "He's under the blue quilt. Robin's with me, but no one else needs to see."

"Neither do you, Raven."

"I have before."

"That doesn't make it easier. You just don't process this as much, perhaps- but you still care, Raven. That's why I don't worry about you. An officer has you in sight- he's waving."

"I see him."

"Good," Oracle said. "You've done enough, for tonight. You and the Titans head out with the officers, okay? Watch out for Slade, but don't seek him out. One loss tonight is far too much. You move out, and I want to talk to you for awhile- I'd do this with any cop working a body ret. 'Ret' is retrieval, in cop-speak.You and I willjust talk, that's it- no forms, no paperwork. We just keep people from taking in too much and not letting it out."

"I don't mean to be rude- but can I take a rain check on that?" Raven asked, finishing the conversation. Oracle would talk to everyone else soon, she knew. "I need to talk to Beast Boy, tonight, about- well, you know."

"Good luck."

"Thanks."

Raven didn't act as if anything had happened when the group met again. Beast Boy touched her arm, gently- she smiled a little, for him. She couldn't bring herself to be irritated, when he had known to not say a word. There was nothing that he could say to make that better. She would talk to Oracle. Barbara would understand.

"Look left," Cyborg said, very quietly. "Don't turn your head- just look. What do you see, Rob?"

"One eye," he said.

"I think we have located Slade," Starfire said, lips thinning into a disapproving frown. "Beast Boy, Robin and I will go forward. You tell the cops to get moving, then come in with Raven."

"What am I doing?" Cyborg asked.

Robin and Starfire's eyes met. "Straight up behind us," Robin said. "But, if Slade takes out his staff- it's a solo fight. Even if you guys did have staffs, we'd just get friendly fire while Slade attacks everyone but himself."

"Got it," Cyborg said. "And, it must be said- the two of you have been talking much more than anyone realized, if you're using the same strategy. Two of you planning- now there's a scary thought."

Robin smiled, just a little. "We'll talk about that later- BB's had his time. Let's go."

Starfire was at his side when he moved forward, and she moved into a kick just when he did. He had been keeping it quiet, for no reason that he could name. Maybe it was just because he knew the guys would rag him about teaching Starfire everything he knew about combat and thinking of it as a date- or maybe he just liked the way Cyborg was surprised with how well Starfire landed a kick that must have broken one of Slade's ribs.

For once, Slade didn't have any dry diatribe to start off the fight. Instead, he turned so that Robin's kick missed before executing a perfect textbook judo flip. If Robin wasn't a moment away from meeting the ground very inelegantly, he might have paid more attention to the detail in the technique. Robin rolled and was on his feet and punching after Starfire held Slade to just a three punches. Cyborg was staying back, Robin noted, with Raven and Beast Boy flanking him- this was a three-person fight.

Robin knew that Slade wouldn't advance away from the wall, when the relatively solid construction was at his back. Instead, Robin, worked to keep Slade's arms busy. Starfire saw his goal- they had been training together for a month, with nothing to think of but what blow would follow.

Slade had been training longer. Robin saw the flaw a minute after he moved his arm into a punch. Slade landed a kick, sending Robin back too far. Starfire was good- but Slade only took a moment to get the staff from his belt.

"Starfire! Get back!" Robin warned. He was there, just in time, and was careful to only hit Slade's staff in an arcing swing. He needed to give her a chance to get out of an armed fight.

"Indeed- this is a battle between two," Slade said, his first comment of the day. He had a score to right before he began his real business, and misdirection was a charming diversion. Teenagers, however costumed, were far too easy to predict.

They didn't need further words. Robin felt no need to convince Slade to speak, and the other man seemed content to fight. With a six-foot reach in his hand, Slade took his back from the wall. He could guard himself better, given the free room to move.

The boy had learned a few fighting tricks, in their time apart, but his staff work was just the same. Slade held back just a touch. The longer this ruse continued, the more complacent the audience would be. Already, the largest of the group was talking quietly, attention divided between the fight and his communicator. Fool. Did he think that he was keeping a secret? Any idiot working for Trigon could read lips.

So, the Titans were covering for the weaklings he had found tinkering in the clock tower. All preparations were in place by the time he chose a victim and completed formalities. Trigon was most choosy about that silly symbol, and this was a night for all usual standards. All it had taken after a few quick punches was one press of a remote, and all carefully prepared sections burst into flames from remote fire-starters. Fire was a proper medium for the sign, and the portent would draw the Titans to where aid would loathe to go. The police would not follow him, unless they had direct orders- protocol would ruin them all, the "incorruptible" cops who held themselves above sensible compatriots who took money and safety.

Slade tired of the game of strike-and-block. He changed his style abruptly in the middle of a swing, shifting his grip and landing the first true hit of the competition to the left clavicle, near the shoulder- by the crack, there was no break, but there would be a very interesting bruise. The best part was not even the satisfying sound that proved he still was the best fighter but for Trigon, and that last exception could change with just one fight. The expression on Robin's face was perfect- and the shocked looks provided by the other Titans, seeing the "Boy Wonder" bested. If one blow was enough to shake them…

He continued the direct assault. There were no clues from muscles to know what would follow, and Robin was flustered enough to let a kick land flush on the right patella. Even a steel-toe hit wouldn't slow his opponent down, completely, but Robin would not come out lightly. The boy was fighting faster now, a flurry of defense as he still (_still) _tried to keep the fight away from his friends.

He found his opening, and decided to end the fight with a three-hit combination that was only taught by one Tibetan monk with a dislike of company. The simple ploys of strikes either blocked or landed was too inefficient for that man. Instead, there was a simple formula. Disarm, dishonor, disable. That was it, as simple as that. The first trick had taken the longest to master, a twisting flick that ripped a six-foot metal staff from even a well-trained grip. Slade couldn't have planned Robin's previous action better, a sweep away from interfering teammates. Robin's staff, launched from his grip, landed in a recessed area still under construction- no one would fetch it.

Even if someone had taken time to chase after the staff, the next two strikes were a blur of a specially-made steel alloy. First, a simple knock to the side that would gift him with a broken rib or two- just to make it clear that Slade would not forget the earlier fight- and perhaps knock the breath from the insolent boy, then a quick knock to the side of the neck.

Slade retracted his staff with a _click _and had it neatly hung from his belt by the time Robin hit the ground, unconscious. He was staring at the Titans by the time Starfire reacted. "He is not dead. He merely is evidence to dispel a few unfortunate rumors, to save me from a few fights in which there will be unnecessary casualties to prove that no one bests me in a fight."

"What did you do."

Oddly enough, there was no question in her words- that certainly was a look far angrier than he had ever expected from the girl. It was strange to see Starfire so furious, after Tara's many reports of the girl's light-hearted nature. "I bested him in a fight," Slade said slowly, watching as the girl only grew madder.

"If you have irreparably harmed him-"

"A weakling such as your 'fearless leader' is not worth the effort it would take to kill him. He will merely be unconscious for a few minutes. Strong force applied to the carotid sinus will do that. He will be his irritating self soon," Slade said. "My chief business here has nothing to do with that entertaining diversion." He watched as Starfire approached, Cyborg behind her. Starfire collected Robin in her arms, quickly, while Cyborg watched. They didn't trust him at all. Perhaps he had judged their idiocy too quickly. They were merely stupid.

"What do you want, Slade?" Cyborg asked.

Cyborgactually was standing in front of Starfire, a second line of defense for the fallen Robin. She was strong, to only stand straighter with her burden. "What do I want? My, that's certainly a broad question. I haven't written out my Christmas list just yet- but for now, I wish to speak to one of you. Alone."

"That's not going to happen," Beast Boy said, eyes narrowed.

Slade noticed that he had edged in front of Raven. What a valiant knight, saving the dragon- "I must say that the Titan I desire to converse with is far more intriguing than any of you may have guessed." He watched Raven pale beneath her hood. She wasn't brave at all. She was just like the rest of her kind, forced into a gang and turning down blessings because of High Morals. She was just as bad as he ever was. He admitted what he was- so who was worse?

"I have to say, Raven, your friends might be impressed to learn the truth about you." He feigned surprise at the sudden change in four Titans' expression. Raven had been checking Robin's pulse, to calm Starfire. Raven froze as she drew her hand back, and the other three Titans quickly tried to suppress shock.

"All this time, they've had no idea of the power that lurks within you?" Slade asked, his tone mocking. She knew perfectly well that he thought she had no real power at all. "Think of the glorious destiny that awaits you, Raven- you won't let this slip through your fingers." He watched as her face contorted for a brief moment with some emotion that might be fury- or despair. It was hard to tell, sometimes. "It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?" he goaded, when she said nothing.

"Go away, Slade," Beast Boy said.

Slade noticed that the boy had taken a protective stance. He didn't remember that child being terribly proactive- perhaps there was something a little more than loyalty to a teammate. "Do you know what you are guarding?" The expressions on their faces were worth all the trouble of setting up that mark. Such defiant nobility guarding someone torn between fear and rage- she was scared, and that just might be enough. If her friends left her, she would fully be a part of the gang. Once he disposed of Trigon, his ill-chosen replacement would be too easy to crumple.

"I know what I'll do to you if you don't leave."

Slade might have been impressed, if he was the type to be impressed by hearing gangly boys growling out threats that never would be fulfilled. "I could show you Trigon's second-in-command, the elusive lieutenant."

Slade's promises were just as dangerous as threats. Starfire's eyes narrowed. "Why should we believe you?"

"Trigon has one child. That is all he needs, to gain a partner, an equal, in his business. You will have two great enemies in your childish crusade to clear this town of the 'mob,' as you think of it. This is so much more- this is a political machine, a few almost-legal corporations, concentric drug rings, a corporation for all the vices, a weaponry supply, a way to purchase more illegal items than you know exist… this town will never be a clean little suburb with white picket fences, but if you dispose of the lieutenant, you may at least get dirty picket fences. This is the best offer you will receive."

"I don't think so," Cyborg said. He glanced at his teammate. "Anyone who wants to listen to the resident psycho, there he is. As for us- you have what you came for, Slade. You proved that you're the big fighter on the block. You used a few gimmicky fights to hurt someone half your size and much younger than you, without half the training- and he held up pretty damned well. Enough."

"I did not come here to fight. I came here to-"

"Talk to someone alone, as you've mentioned," Cyborg said. "We heard you the first time. The answer still is 'no.' Prison's too good for you. If you're still plotting against Trigon- well, more luck to you. Maybe you'll kill each other off- it'd certainly make everyone else happier."

"I'm hurt," Slade said, wincing as if he had been shot in the thigh.

Raven saw the pocket too late. "He's got a-"

A sphere thrown by Slade arced through the air, the ring of yellow lights around its center blinking in patterns as it whistled. The object burst as it hit the ground at their feet, spewing thick, opaque smoke in a thirty foot radius.

Cyborg coughed. Robin was out- someone had to be a leader for a few minutes, and everyone else seemed to have their hands full. He could watch for the team and himself. "Everybody, sound off!"

"I am here, and I still have Robin," Starfire said, coughing into her shoulder.

"Over here," Beast Boy said, kicking half of the smoke bomb. "He tricked us, that time- he was just waiting for a reason to move his hands that way, and he had it primed and ready." He paused. "Rae, are you there?" That always got a response from her. 'It's Rachel' or 'Rae-_chel' _or some sort of reproach- she wouldn't ignore such an offense.

Quiet.

"Hey- Raven?" Cyborg had been waiting for Raven to say something. Maybe she just had needed to catch her breath.

Silence.

"Raven?" Starfire asked, voice rising a little too high.

In the distance, sirens wailed and high-pressure pumps hissed as firemen began to fight the inferno developing in the northeast.


	51. Marked

_The way people reacted to chapter fifty, you'd think I sprung cliffhangers on you to follow every chapter. Thank you to all reviewers, enjoy the chapter._

**Chapter Fifty-one: Marked**  
"Raven!" Cyborg yelled. It didn't matter, if Slade heard- Cyborg knew exactly who Slade had wanted to talk to alone. Jinx had been right, but they hadn't put together just how dangerous this was. Someone would have died, even if the Titans hadn't patrolled. They had probably saved three lives. But- a Titan was missing, with a man that had cavalierly taken a life that evening.

Beast Boy kicked the other half of the metal orb that had released all the smoke. The visibility was slowly returning. He heard it roll away. _WhirrrrrrrrrrCLINK. _Beaten dirt did not 'clink.' He followed where the object could have rolled, dragging his feet to make sure he didn't miss anything. Something that wasn't a scrap bit of lumber or a lost bolt met his toes. He picked up the fallen object. "She's gone."

"Did you find something?" Cyborg asked.

"Her cloak, pin attached," Beast Boy said woodenly. "She wouldn't want to leave this." She was gone. He should have done something, with the way that she had looked scared and Slade had been looking at her- and after Jinx's warning…

"Is the cloth frayed, where the pin would close?" Starfire asked. She knew he would ask. "I'll explain in a moment- just check."

He did. "No, it's not frayed at all." Beast Boy understood. "That means that it wasn't ripped from her- she dropped it." He forced himself to take a deep breath. He had to stay calm, for her. "We have to find her." Raven had thought of them- he just wished that she could have never had to think of such a reality.

"We will," Cyborg said. "I think we should head for the clock tower, in the middle. That's the easiest point to see, and our original intention. We're pretty far from the middle, but we'll keep on the lookout for clues." He paused. He could only see murky outlines of the others, even if Starfire was less than two feet away. "We're going to get our girl back."

"We're not going to leave a Titan behind," Starfire said. "Cyborg, call Oracle- my arms are occupied, until Robin is recovered enough to be supported on his own two feet. Beast Boy, look for any other hints." Starfire composed herself slowly, before the smoke cleared, dimly aware that two Titans were doing the same thing. It was silly, when they all were scared for Raven- but maybe a brave face would help the others. Thinking of the team made everything a little easier. They would find her. It was only a matter of when.

**.Prophecy.  
**She remembered the smoke swallowing the scant illumination from scattered lights. Her hands had flown to the pin on her cloak, some instinct that her mind was moving too feverishly to process. Clumsy fingers had undone the catch and gathered the cloak in her right hand as her left touched her communicator, hard plastic reassuring beneath her fingers.

Her hand moved, forcing itself past slow remembrances of what had happened. The space on her hip that should have a communicator was bare- not even her belt was there. She knew what must have happened. She kept her eyes closed, regardless of the instinct to snap them awake. She counted her breathing, keeping it even, as she cracked her eyes open. It was dark, and she was not outside on the ground. She was on paneled wood flooring, in the middle of a shadowed room that didn't have corners. It was circular, then. She couldn't see anyone in her field of vision- not that it mattered, lying on her side. Slade could be right behind her- but she wasn't moving until she remembered all that had happened.

She had kept her cloak loose in her hand, in case- no, for when Slade came after her. Her breathing had been heavy, her pulse had raced, and Slade would find her only by how afraid she was, alone in the dark. _I don't have to be alone. _She could ask for help. She opened her mouth, not planning what she would say. Even yelling a name would be enough-

Blackness.

So that was it. She resisted the urge to put a hand to her neck. The carotid sinus, was it? Well, she would empathize with Richard's pain in the neck, if Slade was choosing one place to hit today. But- Slade had wanted to talk to her. Where was he, then?

She breathed, losing her count gradually. She feigned waking, calmly. She still saw no one. She was on her feet in a moment. She was not the most graceful, perhaps, but coming up from a fall was just as important as knowing how to fall. She turned, slowly- and saw no one. The high-ceilinged circular room was lined with empty shelves, only stopping for empty doorways with half-finished edges and one empty space beneath a large label of LIBRARIAN. Without the desk, the space was disconcerting.

He was there, somewhere. She knew he had to be. No one but Slade could have hit a target in opaque darkness, no one but Slade would have carted her off for some unknown plot. He wanted to scare her- and it was working. Her communicator was gone, her friends weren't with her, and Slade was-

"Your birthday is coming, Rachel."

Close. Where ever he was, he was too close. His voice echoed through the room, from no clear source. "Your father and I decided that you needed an early message, since you seem to still think that you're going to find some way out of what has to be."

She pretended to ignore him as she tried to get a fix on his position. It didn't help that she could barely make out shelves in the walls. For all she knew, he was in the room and right behind her. Rachel couldn't pretend that she was an untouchable crime-fighter. He knew her name. She had lost her cloak, her communicator, and the small protection of her alter-ego.

"Did you think you could blow out eighteen candles a month and four days from now and just wish this all away?"

He was just trying to get a rise out of her, that was all. She looked out a doorway to the north and east. The fire still burned in the silence after Slade stopped speaking.

By the time she saw a shadow in the corner of a vision, he was there. He grabbed her wrists in his hands, holding her so that she was too close to kick him.

"It is going to happen. No matter what you wish, no matter where you run, no matter how you squirm-" he shifted his grip, so that she couldn't even twist her arms- "there is nothing you can do to stop it."

She wrenched her arms away, hating that he let her. She backed away, keeping her eyes on him. He wasn't moving just yet. Maybe he didn't want a physical fight, but she'd be ready. She wasn't going to try to predict him.

"So quiet," he said. Slade didn't have to raise his voice to make the words a threat. "Have you realized that the time to talk is far past?"

"That certainly hasn't stopped you," she retorted. She didn't even have to pause to think of a response. She was scared. She would admit to herself that she was scared- but Slade did not have to know that. He would take too much pride in that. If she stayed her usual acerbic self- maybe he wouldn't notice.

"My time for words begins now, Rachel. You have not accepted just what you are. You are the little girl- the unwanted high school girl that had no friends less than a year ago- who turned down your one chance at achieving something. Simply because your father dotes on you, you are alive to hear opportunity knock a second time."

Her eyes still followed him- whatever his game was, she doubted it was over.

It wasn't. She couldn't see the shift in how he stood, but she knew that she had to block. That kick would leave a nasty bruise on her right arm, but she was able to circle Slade. "I never put you for a firebug, Slade. Isn't this what teenage boys with criminal delusions do- light things on fire and threaten people?"

"I always have known you for a weakling, but you still could learn to develop nerves. Accept what you will do in the gang."

"Trigon has ordered you to do this."

"I volunteered."

Rae smiled a touch, the mocking look she copied from Selina. "And then Trigon furthered the orders, I bet- no matter how much you think to gain favor in your bid for independence, you need someone to give the orders. What have you done, on your own? You worked for the government, then you were an assassin, now you work under Trigon- and under me. Decorated officials with fancy degrees gave orders. The various employers an assassin attracts told you who to kill, and sometimes how. Now, you want to make yourself stronger by fighting me."

"I have no need for such games."

Rachel blocked every blow that she could see coming, and rolled with everything that landed. "Have no need?" she scoffed, because it made him mad. "You beat Robin with a few tricks you learned from extensive training, to prove that you were top dog. You always seem to be proving something about yourself to someone else. All two apprentices- what did you want, Slade? Did you want someone like you?"

"My motives are my own."

She watched his stance. _Well, well- somebody's defensive. _Rachel was perfectly aware that what she was doing was insane. She was trying to see if she could crack Slade's control. Jinx had said that this was a scare tactic- maybe Rachel could startle Slade into saying too much. She kept a wince hidden- _so, Slade can still hit hard. Great deductions, Rachel- why don't you question how easily your bones can break? _

"Have you finally decided to face the fire?"

She gave him an insolent half-smirk, the expression Richard reserved for particularly irritating people. There- Slade would recognize that. She added her best disbelieving tone, just for emphasis. "I'm not facing any sort of fire, Slade- and as you work under me, I'm sure that you realize this."

"For tonight, that doesn't matter."

Rachel was not a fan of profanities. Cursing was for people with limited imagination and an even more restricted vocabulary. Nonetheless, she said a few less-than-polite phrases under her breath. Slade had been holding back, one of his most aggravating tactics. Now, he was not. Rachel was over-matched. She tried circling, and he only herded her back. She did not like any situation in which she could be compared to a sheep, especially when he had who-knew-what under that mask of his to help him see in the dim light.

"You have seen the fires set, I presume," he said, tone remarkably conversational. He wasn't breathing heavily, even when her muscles pulled for oxygen. "I could continue this little conversation of ours another night, if the message is so unclear. Several other targets could be improved with an inferno. You are Trigon's daughter, for better or worse."

"I don't recall making any vows," she said. The caustic remark was somewhat reduced by a pause for breath- he was driving her towards the wall. The wall was too close, the LIBRARIAN plaque looming overhead as a portent of- something. In light, the scene would have been ridiculous. In dark, when the empty shelves stopped for this empty space-

"You said 'I do' when your father first decided that you, of all people, would run his organization."

She would have doubled over, when a kick slammed into her just below the ribcage, but her body wouldn't react to any sort of neural command. She knew that the area was called the solar plexus and that it was an area halfway between the navel and the heart- but all she needed to know was that she couldn't catch her breath, even before Slade had a knife in his hand.

_Slash. _

"You never will be more than this."

She saw metal flash, but nothing cut into her skin. Instead, the hilt of his knife traced the symbol to the right of her navel. Scath was permanently marked into her abdomen, solid red and too solid. She remembered that tattoo- and what she had promised herself. She would never be involved in her father's politics, she had told herself. Now- she was playing a dangerous game of politics and the risky role of dutiful daughter. She could not just forget what she had promised herself as the naïve thoughts of a twelve-year-old. Except- she had. Intentions didn't matter. People still died, didn't they, because of Trigon? She let such things happen, by not acting-

"What ever would your friends think, if they knew? I can't imagine that you have shown them," he said. "The house laundry knows that you have two bathing suits, both solid one-pieces in a dark color. Are you so afraid of rejection?"

She didn't answer. Anything she said in response to that would only give him the advantage. Even if she did have an answer ready to spit at him- she was only now regaining her breath. Even with her breath, she couldn't find words. She was too close to being what her father wanted, and he wanted her even nearer.

Her head tilted forward for a moment. She knew what he had done. He had grabbed her leotard in a fist, catching skin for a moment, and cut away a section. The ache left behind by his hand promised to become a bruise, but the knife had not cut her. The undesired gap in her outfit was a narrow-edged oval with a wide middle, centered over the bright red of the mark. She looked at the mark, just as red as she had remembered it.

"Remember, Rachel- no amount of wishing will make this go away." His voice always held a trace of a sneer, but she suspected him as she finally could draw in a breath that did more than rattle in her trachea.

That was when he punched, hard. She would have only a bruise, which should satisfy Trigon- but the impossible girl would have something to remember about the night. Words alone wouldn't be enough, no matter what Trigon thought- and it was about time that someone proved to not kowtow to the girl's whims.

She fell, at that, breath lost again. She kept herself braced against the wall, her gaze fixed on Slade. The man had enough pride. She would satisfy it no further. She waited for her lungs to catch gasped air, very conscious that he continued to stare at her.

"You can't run from what everyone knows, when previously spoken word can be as good as prophecy," he said, with a trace of a sneer for the winded girl.

She granted Slade an indolent grin, one that he wouldn't have seen before. That expression she had copied from Gar. "Do you write those lines yourself, or is some B-movie missing dialogue?" She stayed upright until he walked away, out of sight. It was only then that she leaned against the nearest bookshelf, allowing herself to be a little pleased with the results. Sure, Slade just had mentioned everything she had to be afraid of that she had yet to mention to the team- but she had gotten the last word for once. That had to count for something-

This time, blackness didn't take her. Instead, she saw a haze as she remembered to cross her arms over the bare place in her uniform. She was tired, and sleep sounded like the best of daydreams- but it wasn't time to sleep, not yet.

She forced herself to stay awake. She diagnosed what had happened. _Bruising on the abdomen- that's nothing, just like that kick to the back. The blocks with the forearms- there was that one cut from the boot, but everything else will be fine if I just wear long sleeves for awhile. Legs- I'll live, there's just bruising. _

_There is definitely a concussion possibility, thanks to the way your head collided with the wall- which is probably why standing up would be a bad plan about now._ She tried standing, once. The effort almost made her fall flat on her face- after that, she decided to wait. She was in the middle of the apartment complex, the unspoken meeting place. All she had to do was wait.

What was taking them so long? Even looking at her watch did no good. It was too dark to read the numbers, and moving her other hand to press the button that would light the digital face- she just knew that she could barely keep her eyes open. Once the Titans came, sleep would finally be safe.

Unless- unless Slade found them. They might not believe him, but Barbara could confirm that. Barbara trusted her- but they might not. Oracle knew, but no one had told the Titans. Maybe Gar would guess- but what would he have really thought?

"Split wide," she thought she heard Richard say. "Cover the room."

Richard might know. As much as he hated not putting together clues, not finding the link between Slade and anyone- he had his own past problems. Maybe he wouldn't care.

"Rachel?"

Kori rarely sounded that hesitant anymore. She had gained confidence slowly as Kori, long after Starfire was a brazen fighter- but she was still worried for a friend. Maybe Slade hadn't stopped to leave a last message.

"Hey, Rachel!" Victor yelled. She knew she heard that, but she was too tired to yell back a response. In her imaginings, she hadn't remembered just how loud he could be when he wanted to be heard. "Speak up!"

Victor had known her longest. Maybe he would remember the clues. Maybe he already had guessed. He had the easiest temper in the group- maybe he would understand.

"You're sure?" Kori said quietly after buzzing from a communicator. "He's gone!" Kori said, much more loudly. "The police just saw Slade exit through the northern end- he's out of here. We need not fret over him."

"For today, at least," Richard said.

Rachel knew she was hearing them, now, but the effort of looking for them in the darkness was too much. She wanted to know where Gar was- she could hear Victor walking heavily. Victor wasn't paying attention to his balance, and every other step was heavy. Kori must have just punched a wall, in the direction Richard was pacing. No one else on the team had that kind of raw strength. Slade had an entirely different way of walking, and he wouldn't be running.

"Rae," Garsaid, relief overwhelming lingering worry. "Rachel, are you-"

That was when she passed out.


	52. Answers

_You poor, poor readers- two cliffhangers in a row. Yet, somehow, through some strange anomaly in nature- you're not dead, and you're back here to read this chapter. (And for any with plots in motion- yes, I am rather attached to my kneecaps, yes, dead writers don't tend to finish stories, and yes, I am planning to visit my Rhode Island hideout, so any really desperate assassins can find me there.) Orange- the dare's in this chapter. _

_Here's fifty-two (because I know that you don't want to read my ramblings-on, and you just want to find out what happened to darling Rachel- I'm allowed to call her that, contracted benefit- so I don't know why you're still reading this.)_

**Chapter Fifty-two: Answers**  
He dialed the number for the second time and spoke the instant the call was answered. "Just give me one minute, would you? That's all I want."

Alone in her room, she frowned, stubbornly facing away from sunlight threatening to slip past her curtains. "Sixty seconds. Start now. I'll hum the Jeopardy theme song twice."

"Rachel's okay. She passed out when we got there- when Gar got there, specifically. He put her cloak over her- we all know how shy Rachel is about skin- and carried her about a quarter mile to Barbara and the waiting medics. Barbara diagnosed her main injuries as bruising and a very mild concussion, and said she was fit to send home. I called Ms. Roth, who said that Rachel would be better cared for away from Mr. Roth- well, she said Rachel's father, but you get the idea. Rachel is at Gar's house, still asleep, Shelia is watching them both like a suspicious hawk, and, even though everyone is sorry this happened- Slade was determined to get Rachel alone. At least, after last night, she came back with exhaustion as her worst ill. I'm sorry. We believed you- but what else would have happened? Slade would have come back another time. At least we had warning, this way. I haven't heard humming, but my time's probably up- call me back, if you want to."

"Don't hang up," Jinx said. "I just- I heard the worst parts of it. Slade gave a report to Trigon. I was 'honored' with the permission to listen to it. Slade's furious, by the way. He did get to deliver some obscure message or other, but Rachel got Slade riled. Something about how she was down- but she's not going to give up."

"That's our girl. She's still asleep- I called Gar's place after you hung up on me. She was awake for a few minutes, but Shelia bullied Gar into saving conversation for this morning. Rachel's going to be fine."

"I've only heard rumors- Trigon was furious that Slade distracted himself from the plan 'to imbibe in a personal vendetta against a Titan.' His words, not mine- Trigon might be a brute, but he can talk fancy when the mood strikes. But- Rachel's okay?"

"She'll be fine. Gar was worried, mostly because she had a huge splotch of red- but Oracle says it wasn't blood, and that's good enough for everyone. I'm giving Rachel space today- she needs a little time with Gar."

"I know I was angry, Stone- but you and the idiots you call friends are bound and determined to be heroes. Heroes- you're not the brightest bunch out there, you know. What's a girl supposed to do but sit around and worry and wait? You're just asking for someone to go after you, to claim the glory of bringing down a Titan- and you lot probably would give yourselves up, if it would save someone."

"You wouldn't?"

"If I would, it's because you've given me ideas that just don't make sense," she said. "Victor- I knew that Rachel could be in trouble, but Slade was under orders to only rough her up a little. I'll talk to her later, though, when she's not at Gar's."

"We're okay?"

"Were we not okay?" she asked. "I was just angry, yesterday. I might get angry pretty easily, but that only means I burn out fast. It takes something to make me keep a grudge- and you could never do that. Heroic ideals and all- care to sweep a lady off her feet today? My boss is out for the day, the climate around here is a bit tense, and a few politicians are working the populace."

"The front door's open," he said.

"You know I don't want to leave you any questions. Rachel told me about the side gate- that's been doing fine. It's easier to go that way, anyway. The Underground goes pretty close to there- that's the creepy tunnel-system. Giz wipes me off surveillance. He might not like you much, but I've done favors for him."

"Much?"

"Okay, okay, so he still sounds like a vehement third-grader when he grumbles about you. Point is- you want company?"

"Yes- and Kori just sent an e-mail. Shelia's going to call her when Rachel's up and moving, and all the Titans are heading over. Do you want to come with? Kori promised that Richard would 'keep a civil tongue in his head'- and I could type back that you'll try getting along," he said.

She stretched, giving herself time to consider. "He did what he thought best. He just isn't much of a thinker, that's all- not that he needs to hear that. I'll be over soon, Vic."

"The back door's open, too, Jinx- and thanks, for understanding."

"Thanks nothing, hero- you guys did your job. What time is it?"

"Seventeen past eight," Victor said. The long format of the time gave him an extra moment before her indignant protest.

"Of all the times to call, when I was up half the night worr- thinking of what I'd do when I got my hands on you. Four minutes, Victor- and do you have any orange juice? Trigon's wife isn't in the mood to badger anyone about grocery shopping- she's about to blow a gasket, just like I might. The way you dolts could have been killed…" Jinx said. He knew what she meant- now, it was time to get back to the comfort zone. She laughed when he played right along, controlling merriment to a smile as she left Trigon behind. As fun as it might be to see Angela's confrontation with Trigon- it would be much safer at Stone's house. Besides, he had an actual breakfast to go with the orange juice- and who was she to turn down good cooking?

**.Toast.**  
He could understand why the waiting was necessary. Last night, she had only been awake for a few minutes. This morning, for once in her life, she had slept late. He kept himself to the occasional imagined errand that would involve that hallway. By the time she was slowly waking up, the phone had rung. And, as much as he would like to, he couldn't claim precedence over her mother. That just meant he'd have to wait even longer.

He was resignedly helping make breakfast. Since his mother was fussing (not that she would admit to it in such terms) with the linen closet that just happened to be by Rachel's room, he was left to stay in the kitchen. He knew the reasons for that. Harry wasn't the most awake of all people in the mornings, usually. When he had the frying pan to himself, however, he would invariably attempt to make French toast just like the other mechanics in his shop. The only difference was the imitation eggs and soy milk used in the batter. A ninety-nine percent failure rate for the hapless breakfast making it back into the pan after a midair flip wasn't a deterrent. A disapproving presence was- usually.

"Did you see that?"

Gar glanced over, belatedly. A pristine slice of half-baked French toast rested on the pan. Honesty wasn't always the best policy. "That was a good one," Gar said, deciding to be honest in a round-about way. He had been too distracted to see the flight of the breakfast. "How about we make the rest the usual way, though? Rachel doesn't talk much about her own kitchen, but I'm pretty sure that flying breakfast isn't usual."

"I wouldn't think so- her loss. Victor brought her bag around, by the way- it's by the front door, in front of the closet."

"You're trying to get rid of me," Gar accused. "Don't you remember what happened last time? Soggy toast, new ceiling fan, and the permanent stain on the wall?"

"Fine, fine- just for today, since you and your mother both are wet blankets about one of the better points of life. And, for your information, I was telling you so that you could bring that up with you. Shelia had pajamas around, of course- fosters tend to have a few basic sets of clothing around for all sizes, just in case. The backpack has what she's used to wearing. Since the light on the kitchen phone just went off, Rachel's done talking on the phone with her mother." Harry raised his voice for the last part of his statement. His foster son was thundering up the stairs to the upstairs bedroom.

Harry heard knocking, a creaky floorboard- and then nothing for awhile. Shelia discretely made her way down the stairs, holding the phone. "She heard him coming and left the phone on the side table in the hallway," she said, quietly. "He was relieved- I know that the poor kid wanted to see her before, but she wasn't ready just yet. She relaxed, when she saw him- she wouldn't do that for me, even in my best foster-mom moment," Shelia said fondly. "They'll be down in a minute. He's still a little too happy that she's okay to say anything we'd want to hear to understand just what happened last night."

"How is she?"

"Bruised, mostly. She wouldn't let me look at most bruises, but that's to be understood. Gar mentioned something about some red on her stomach. Since she assured me there was no bleeding and her shirt wasn't leaking through with blood, I didn't ask. She has no marks on her face except a glancing bruise over her cheek, and she won't need to see a doctor. If she did have a concussion, it's mild enough that all symptoms are gone now. She's very lucid about details."

"The Titans will probably call again- I can say that she'll be fine within a week?" Harry said.

"I saw that bruise on Richard's knee when the Titans came by last night. By the time he's ready to do patrol, she'll be fine. Knowing that boy, he's already training- but he'll only be sore." She heard a floorboard squeak. "Motion- good. She'll probably change clothes, first- he did bring her bag, when he was tearing up the stairs like a hooligan."

"And we know how long that can take," Harry said.

"No, we don't need any more flying food," Shelia said firmly. "I know you well enough to know what you mean- and you keep making the assumption that the son of ours would end up with a typical teenage girl." She closed his hand around a spatula. "There. Have a tool. If you really need a power tool, I'll tape a battery to it."

"That isn't the same."

"Of course it isn't, but you don't see me using a scalpel to skin apples."

"You could just eat apples with the skin on- all your medical training, you know the skin has all sorts of nutrients and fiber and-"

"And you know how many pesticides probably are grown right in that skin. The apples probably aren't much better, but I will keep my small delusions. You can keep food in the pan. What would you do if you hit a guest in the head with the food? I know that your parents might not mind- and that they both seem to encourage this- but you know that the poor countertops take enough abuse."

"I already landed one in the pan," Harry said. "How about one more shot?"

"I don't see why- well, if you insist," she said, listening again to creaking floorboards. "Try it now. Hitting guests with airborne breakfast is impolite."

Rachel didn't need help going down the stairs. She was confident in her balance, sure on her feet, and certain that she could manage a flight of twelve steps. She didn't bother to convince herself she agreed for appearance's sake. She just didn't mind his arm around her when she meant to meet his parents- again. Walking into the kitchen, she caught something flying directly at her head-

"French toast?" she asked, looking dubiously at what had been a flying object.

Shelia took it delicately before brandishing it at Harry. "My husband insists on flipping the things like the chefs on television do it- and don't fuss at me, I talked to Annie. Everyone else in that shop admits to watching that cooking show, whatever it's called."

"My dad tries, too," Rachel said. "I don't think he ever has managed." If her voice was a little tight as she mentioned her father, no one commented. She had to smile, at the thought- here was something Trigon couldn't do. "He doesn't try often, though, because he hates looking silly at something that isn't easily learned."

"And you thought she'd be traumatized by my horrible manners," Harry said. "You do like French toast?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Good, because that's what we have," Shelia said. "Along with hot water and tea- Gar made sure we had the brand you like about, so that's all set. I know it's none of my business- but you don't take any sugar with yours? I'd put a pinch, in something that strong. A little sweet never hurt anyone."

Rachel shrugged. Maybe she'd try that sometime, but for today she wanted tea just the way she was used to it. "I know it's off-topic- but how's Richard?"

"Off-topic is fine, he's fine," Shelia said. "I bullied him into staying put. He's not patrolling for at least five days- this Friday is a maybe. You're not going back until he's back- you came out a little better than Richard. It helps that staffs weren't involved- whacking at people with weapons always leaves more chance for broken bones. He's lucky to not have any broken ribs- only the design of his outfit kept that from happening."

"Richard's still practicing, of course." Gar had talked to all the Titans that morning, while waiting. "Kori's going to look after him, to make sure he doesn't hurt himself past being sore." Richard just wanted to be in top shape, but he could go to extremes. Kori wasn't about to let that happen.

Rachel carefully took a seat. "I think I'll pass on practice today- but I'll very happily take breakfast."

"Good, because we have lots of that," Harry said.

"Most of it's not even decorating the walls," Shelia quipped.

"Are they always like this?" Rachel asked, voice barely above a whisper. Shelia and Harry continued to bicker.

"Usually," Gar confirmed. "This is just a special case- they're toning it down for company."

"Speaking of company- we're going to have more later, right?"

"Right- the Titans are all heading over to see with their own eyes that you're okay. If you don't mind, that is."

"Mind? Of course not- the team should be together, today, but only after you're done staring." She smiled at the look on his face and interrupted before he could begin stammering out a reply. "It's fine, Gar- just feel free to know that I'm not going anywhere for awhile."

"Not even home?"

"Even if I wanted to go back to my house soon- I was just on the phone with my mom. She and my father will be having a talk, and theirs won't involve French toast."

"It's better to stay out of the way?"

"As fun as it might be to see- my mom doesn't like audiences, and my father doesn't like losing. He's worse about losing with witnesses- and I wouldn't want to be near my mom when she's angry. She doesn't lose her temper often, but when she does…"

Gar guessed where that was going. "Nuclear?"

"Three Mile Island, Chernobyl, and the Bikini Atoll, all in one house," she said with a nod as she put two slices of French toast on her plate. "Pass the syrup, please?"

**.Family Affair.**  
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Angela wasn't quite scorned, perhaps, but she had the fury part set.

Angela Marie Roth had spoken briefly with her daughter on the phone; she wasn't about to leave Trigon before having her planned talk. More details had come from Jinx, Victor, Richard, Kori, and Gar. Gar stayed on the phone with her the longest, in the morning while her daughter was asleep. She was very pleased that her daughter would rest without disturbance- Angela didn't want anyone she liked in the house for the moment. Jinx was spending a late night at Victor's, and had warned the tolerable staff to avoid the kitchen. Angela knew that her daughter had several nasty bruises, a scratch from a knife, and more spine than was probably sane.

Her daughter had, by her own admission, baited Slade. Angela's only daughter had intentionally made Slade Wilson angry- and had come out alive and with a few new theories. It could have something to do with Trigon's orders to Slade, that Rachel wasn't in the hospital or gone, but Angela wasn't at all pleased with Trigon. So his daughter wasn't adjusting to gang life, or whatever the reason had been- she still didn't know why she loved the idiot.

She stormed into the kitchen, all five feet and four and three-quarters inches of all the intimidation she could muster. She didn't care that Trigon was "doing lunch" with some client or other. It was eleven o'clock- that was far too early to "do lunch," and all they had were alcoholic beverages. Instead of pointing this out, she very calmly took a champagne glass from the counter and threw it at her husband.

"You _idiot," _Angela snarled. So what if she had given up for awhile, if it was easier to forget- her daughter could have been hurt. "You couldn't handle talking to one teenage girl about your concerns, so you sent a henchman who hates her to try scaring her into this? I don't know what passes for thought in that lump of density you think a cranium, but you could have lost her for good. Haven't you ever heard of communication?"

Angela turned to the puzzled businessman. "You, whatever you are- if you would please withdraw to the parlor? Just out the kitchen, to your left- it'll be the second opening on your right, the green room with Chinese motifs. My husband and I have a discussion that needs to be held."

"You don't need to go, Mr. Jacobs," Trigon said.

Angela had known that her first projectile wouldn't cause any harm. Thin glass, everyone in shoes, and Trigon in a thick leather jacket- the pleasing shattering sound had been to catch attention. "I think you do," she said, just as Jinx had coached her. "Trigon, we will talk. Now. Or I will find Slade first, and you might not want him dead just yet. Clearing up the trail that his very unpleasant demise would leave would not be pleasant."

"Perhaps you should leave us for a minute," Trigon said, ignoring how quickly the businessman fled the kitchen. "Angela, we both know you wouldn't kill anyone."

"Oh?" she said sourly. Just because she wouldn't…

"Besides, the only way you could get someone with that much fighting background is with a ranged weapon. Every last person in this house knows that you couldn't hit an ocean if you were standing in the shallows," he said patiently.

Her expression tightened in anger. He was so insufferably smug- only the thought of having the conversation for Rachel saved him from an embarrassing red palm-mark on the cheek. Punching hurt more, physically, but men like Trigon didn't get slapped often. It wasn't "manly." "That is not the point, Trigon. You send an _assassin _out to scare my little girl. After what you did- she's not yours any more, she's not ours. She's my daughter- and she'd be better off with a widow for a mother, do you know that?"

"Angela, what brought on the morals lecture?"

"Don't be patient with me, Trigon. You know that we don't have anything typical here. I just helped you get the checking accounts balanced- for the first time in twelve years, you can be sure that no one's scamming you. I want you to stop trying to make Rachel's life a misery. Of course she's a little reluctant to join you fully- look what you'd do to your second-in-command! To her, no less! You set someone known to aspire to that position and beyond out to scare her into it." Angela scowled. "Besides, my little girl is a teenager. She's always been stubborn. You just tried to scare a stubborn teenage female into something that she's reluctant to do."

"Angela-"

"Trigon, listen to me. If you _ever _do something like this again- you'll lose her. As it is, you better not push her. She saw one of her friends badly hurt, got knocked out by some psycho with a stick, and woke up somewhere else. Besides a nasty collection of bruises, she has a cut on her abdomen." Angela decided to not mention a conversation with Shelia. The nurse and foster mother was not pleased with letting someone doctor their own wounds, but Rachel and Angela insisted.

"She is not committed to what she will do."

"No, she isn't," Angela said. "Have you ever considered that she might not want this?"

"She could be-"

"Great. I know. She also could be someone else and do something great, you know. Trigon- can't you let her choose?"

"I need her," he said. "That's the end of the matter, Angela."

"You can't threaten me with that look, Trigon. As it is, you're not sleeping in my room for a few days- sending Slade after your daughter! You sent her _subordinate _to dress her down, first of all- and with all that Slade pushes about rebelling, I would think you know how stupid that is." She scowled. He knew perfectly well, but he wouldn't admit it. "Of all the idiotic things to do- I suppose you know that she's not here."

"Where is she?" he asked.

"She's staying with a friend of hers," Angela said. "Luckily, there's a nurse related to one of the team members." There was a tidy explanation for just why she would go to Gar's house- Trigon didn't need any spare information. "You're getting that mulish look on your face again, my apologies to the mules- I'll put this in terms you can understand. You sent Slade after his superior in the gang to give her a message and to intimidate her. Your orders were that your second-in-command is to be scared of a subordinate- is that going to help anything? Even if her friends were suspicious, even if they cast her out- what would that accomplish, if she was afraid? You'd have a shrinking violet that would get killed within a week of full partnership, because she was weak. If you want your daughter to last- she has to come on her own."

"I don't like waiting."

"Now, there's a nice petulant tone for a crime-boss. I don't care what you don't like- you want this job done correctly, yes? Then you'll let her come to you, if she wants to. No threats against her friends, no scaring her into it, no more persuasion," Angela said. "I do not want to hear another word about you pressuring her." It would be so much more satisfying to yell- but she had to make him hear this. "And if you somehow put my daughter in danger- so help me, I'll do something about it. I'm probably already damned for my ties to you, so what's one more life on that tab? If you hurt my daughter- hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, maybe, but a mother grieved can be worse. A mother grieved with an action to take- don't cross me, Trigon."

"Was that a threat?"

She didn't care that he was standing. She didn't care that he was far taller. She didn't care that he was Trigon, who had killed people for less than what she had said to him. "Yes. It was. I won't discourage my daughter from your mad enterprise- but you have to know that if you force her into this, it just might destroy her. She may want to come to you. Let her, if she wants to. If she doesn't, let her go."

"Angela, Rachel is my daughter. I have some say in what her future will be."

"So encourage her, if you must," Angela said, looking her husband straight in the eye. "If I hear one _whisper _of you ever trying some scare tactic again, be it threat or action or rumor, I will go to the authorities myself. You can't kill me because of that threat- that would drive Rachel away, wouldn't it? And would you rather have revenge against me or have your daughter?" She stood there, arms akimbo and heart racing, waiting for what he would do.

He laughed.

Of all things for a man who created an organization that had run the Mafia from this area of California- "What in tarnation are you _laughing _about?" she demanded.

"You," he answered with a smile. "You, and how Rachel must have gotten her stubbornness from you- and how I've never heard anyone else say 'tarnation.'"

She frowned. "And what exactly are you saying, husband mine?"

"Rachel will come around- she can see what she has going," Trigon said, with far too cocky a smile for Angela's liking. "And- well, this will send the complete wrong message. Encouragement instead of discouragement, perhaps."

"You," Angela said clearly, "are an insufferable prig, and however much you attempt to reform, your overly large ego thwarts any hints of decency."

"You're still sure, then?" he asked.

She nodded firmly, lips just as firmly pressed together. The damnable man- whatever else he was, however illegal his actions or misguided his thoughts- still could make her almost relent. "You'll either sleep on the couch or in a guest bedroom- because you're out of the bedroom suite until further notice." That would be whenever Angela saw that Slade was chastised, Rachel was happy again, and Trigon fully aware that he wasn't going to run intimidation tactics any longer. She realized that she was still staring at him. Well, so what- for better or worse, against all sense, she liked the man sometimes. Was that a crime?

"It'll be a family affair, finally, Angela," he said. "Just think- everything we ever wanted."

"All I've ever wanted was to be with you, and for my daughter to be happy," Angela said. She knew that her daughter would never want to be involved- but Trigon would never believe her. Some people just wouldn't see the truth if it punched them in the jaw. She smiled at the look in his eye when she moved a fraction closer, the way his gaze shifted- "And I meant it. You're on the couch, in the doghouse, and out of the bedroom, buster." She stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him on the cheek. "Go on, now- that businessman is in the Jade room or whatever silly name you call it. I'm going to check on our- my little girl, and Batman himself help you if I find a single…."

He didn't hear all of her threats as he headed for the Jade Room (which was not a silly name- impressing clients with opulence was just as winning as impressing them with force), but he didn't need to. She was smiling, and she would look after their daughter. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea, getting Slade to scare her- but he hadn't been wrong. He had just had a slight miscalculation in the overall plan pointed out, that was all.

Walking to the Jade room, he already had new ideas on just how to persuade his daughter without including Slade. This was a father-daughter affair. He didn't need intermediaries- but first, all he would need was time.

**.Weapons.**  
"One more time," Kori said.

"Kori-"

"I almost had it," she insisted. "I know that we're both tired- don't give me that look, I know you well enough to know that you're tired, too, after yesterday- but I want to get this right. What happens next time? I will not be a helpless stressed damsel." He had been the one to start the training session. She wasn't going to end this with another example of why he had to face Slade alone. If he wouldn't admit that his knee hurt, she would just make sure they stopped before he stressed his leg too much.

"What, so you're waiting for me to fail again?"

_Clang. _

Kori smiled. She had known he would block that strike. She didn't know how feral she appeared at that moment, staff in her hands and stance natural. "No. I am waiting for you to be the Richard I know and love. You know that Slade pulled out a few more tricks to beat you. Without them, it would have been an even match. I think that your staff," she said over a percussion of steel, "is like a weapon I have seen before." She decided to not mention that the fights had been a game- he needed confidence, not reassurance.

"I know- but Slade messed with me, and I let him."

"So don't let him, next time," Kori said. "I know you can beat him."

"I'll try."

"So don't hold back with me," Kori said. "I know that you would rather not hit me, and I do appreciate that- but you can't hit straight to my staff and expect me to get better," she said frankly. "I am in no need of the protection that such softening will give."

He twisted the staff in his hands, feeling the vibration in the metal from the other end. Her staff went flying in a perfect arc- "Alfred!"

The man calmly stepped to the left. The staff's end brushed his trouser at the neat crease at the side. Richard had the feeling that, had Alfred not been holding a tray, he would have snatched the staff from mid-air to put it away. "I was aware that you and Miss Anders were conducting a practice with staffs," he said dryly. "The accompanying sounds are most distinctive, and likely far more helpful to what you will actually do than dry simulations." He set the tray on the table. All furniture had been stacked to the far right past the stairs, but a portion of the table was available.

"Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth," Kori said. She thought it was common courtesy, if the man was going to be formal- and on a few occasions, she almost could catch a changing expression. She retrieved her staff- she wasn't done just yet. She spun it around her hand, tossed it in the air, and caught it after one revolution.

"Staff tricks?" Richard asked.

"It's easy," Kori defended. "In my freshman year, I was in the States for awhile. That's what the English call this country, and a few other countries have taken that name. I was never directly involved, but a friend of mine was a part of the flag corps." She moved the staff into a more elaborate pattern that almost looked like a fight. "I think that you only see that stick of yours as a weapon, and that is your problem."

"Um, Kori- it is a weapon," Richard said. He noticed that Alfred wasn't leaving just yet. The impossible butler was dusting the television projector screen. Alfred wasn't going to be exiting the basement for a long while.

"It is not merely something to use with which to whack opponents," Kori lectured, distracted with what he didn't see just yet. "I have had a most odd education in various physical art forms, because of entering schools at different points of the view. This," she said, brandishing the staff in a way that made Alfred concerned for the cups on the tray, "is not just a metal stick."

Richard went along with her. Besides the fact that he was curious about what she wanted to say- going along was the only option. "What else is it?"

"You're a literalist, Richard," she said, ignoring his question. "That's why you and Slade are at this impasse. It is not a gaffe on the part of either one of you, when the other eventually wins. The fact is that you both are good fighters. Slade fights conventionally, but he has a greater knowledge of fighters' tricks. You fight conventionally, but could have a new advantage. Those who say to 'think out of the box' will not really be creative- because if you see the box, what good are you doing? Richard, I want you to figure out what else your metal whacking stick is."

"Why do I have the feeling that we're not just talking about fighting?" he asked.

Kori smiled. She looked eerily like his personal trainer in jujitsu. "Because we are not," she said, not without satisfaction. "You think too much about what the past meant, and you allow this to dictate the future. Slade has beaten you. Instead of focusing on some slip in that fight, remember also that you have beaten Slade."

Richard frowned. "Um- Kori? Since when do you do the lecture circuit?" He was buying himself time to understand just what she was getting at.

"Since you needed someone to tell you this, and since I had something to say," she said simply.

"So- you want me to do something new," he said.

"Exactly."

"Like- twirling?"

"No. Like- getting out of the fight for a minute to let someone else have a go," she said. "Secret weapon. All you need to do is pole-vault backwards."

So he paused- who wouldn't? "Excuse me, but did you just suggest backwards pole-vaulting?"

"Watch." She mimed fighting an opponent. All he saw was a flash of silver, and she was at his side. "You do an off twirl, I know that you need someone in for backup. Perhaps we cannot fight at the same time, but I will be there if you desire help." He worked it out as she talked. She had twirled the staff as if preparing for a blow, planted the tip on the ground behind her, and had gotten out of the way.

He knew just what she meant. "So, I can happily accept your help or get it anyway. I could use the help- and knowing that someone else is there. So, how exactly do you do that fancy staff-trick?"

"After lunch," Kori said. "Now that you're interested- a break won't matter. Thank you for lunch, Alfred," she said, very politely.

"It was my pleasure, Miss Anders."

Richard gaped, looking from Kori to a retreating Alfred. "That screen was barely a quarter dusted, and he just- left! Upstairs, not lurking at the bottom, and not listening to what we're saying."

She smiled, a little smugly. "What can I say? People will see sense, when words are put properly."

"What did you say?" he asked, curious. Selina could occasionally convince the butler to leave for another area, but she complained that Alfred had a way of knowing when his presence was not at all necessary and would instead complicate conversations.

Kori shrugged and looked at him with wide green eyes. If he hadn't known her well, he never could have expected just what the sly tilt of her smile meant. "Why, nothing that bears repeating."

"You know, Kori- you're not half as bad as telling tales as you think," he said. "I think I'm rubbing off on you. Of all things to get, you get lying."

"Oh, that's not all," she said, still wide-eyed and innocent.

"Oh?" he said.

"Well, my ego has much grown, I am much more stubborn, I can be fully obsessed with one matter for a prolonged period of time-" She couldn't help but smile at the look on his face. "And I know just when to be a little cynical, how to fight, and just when a little sarcasm is appreciated."

"Kori, you have a way with words."

She laughed, if only because of the priceless expression to his face. "I know- but I learned from the best."

"Of course you did, I-"

"Rachel is a great teacher, isn't she?"

"So, it's tease Richard day, is that it?" he asked with feigned resignation as he tried to keep a smirk from appearing.

"Only because you need to smile, and because I need to make sure your ego doesn't expand dramatically with how easily you beat me when you put your mind to swinging that metal stick of yours around."

"So, it's a metal stick now?"

"What do you want it to be?"

"Okay, you're only going to be able to say so many astute things without making me put some staff-work where all the wisdom is."

"So it's to be threats, is it?" she asked, lunch forgotten. Cold-cut sandwiches would keep. She took the staff borrowed from Bruce in her hand, twirling it to find the balance again. "Maybe I will."

"I'd like to see you try," he said. _Clang. _

Alfred left polishing the grandfather clock when the sounds of staffs resumed. He had not even needed to interfere, and his presence had only interrupted them before a possible fight could begin. Now, things were going admirably- and Selina and Bruce were growing a little too loud. Miss Kyle never turned down a proper English tea.

He put together a tray. Steeping tea, two cups, three raspberry scones, and a plain wheat roll- the roll was just what Bruce would ask for. He would drop off the tray when Bruce sounded too monosyballic, resume surveillance of Miss Anders and Richard, make sure all still was going well, then return for the tea tray at an opportune moment- without commenting that there would be a trace of raspberry on Bruce's hand, or that the wheat roll still remained on the tray.

A butler's work was never done- and Bruce had just growled two responses in a row. It was time for tea- and perhaps an excellent time to keep his attentions in this area. Miss Anders had mentioned a visit to Miss Roth, and Miss Kyle just might need the backup.

**.Toast, Again. **  
"We will have company in a minute, cavemen and lady. Feel free to use tools at any time," Shelia drawled.

"You only show yourKentucky roots when you're trying to not sound amused," Harry accused cheerfully. "And I'm just watching, anyway- the kids are the ones making grilled cheese sandwiches."

"As if that's any excuse- and they're making far less of a mess than you ever do."

"It's not my fault. Rachel seems to just have the innate ability to surprise people with random talent, Gar's showing off for the pretty lady- all I really do is try to-"

"Show off for me, and I know it," Shelia interrupted. "I need to go to work. You're sure that you can handle a household of heroic teenagers? I think they'll be fine, but you never know."

"They're probably going to be making sure I'm in one piece," Rachel said, stepping back as Gar flipped a grilled cheese sandwich. "We have food, to try distracting them."

"Besides, Kori's still going to be fussing over Richard. She's not blaming herself, but she does feel bad that he fought alone."

"Slade pulled a staff," Rachel said. "No matter what you see in movies, teammates and six foot staffs don't go well together. Someone will get nastier than a bruise, since you never plan to block a teammate."

"There's a car in the driveway," Harry said. "Shelia's waving them in- she has a round in the OR today, so she doesn't have time to stay and talk. Kozlowski requested her as aide for some surgery or other."

Rachel decided it might be best to be out of the kitchen. "They're here," she said, unaccountably nervous.

"Rachel! I am most glad to see you also are fine."

"Kori, it's great to be fine- but watch thebruised merchandise," Rachel said. Kori was watching her strength, but even touching her back to a chair was enough to hurt.

"I'm off until at least Friday," Richard said. Rachel didn't mention the slight limp, knowing that it would be a sore topic. He understood, and didn't mention that she was rubbing an ache in her side. "How are you holding up?"

"I'll be fine by Friday," Rachel said. "I only have a few bruises, nothing as serious as a bone bruise."

"That's good, then." Victor didn't know what he was supposed to say, but inspiration had yet to strike. Jinx wasn't any help. She was studying a picture on the wall far too carefully.

"Well, isn't this awkward?" Gar said. "She's fine, Richard's fine, and the Titans are on break for the rest of the school week. Lunch, anyone?"

Rachel paused before going back into the kitchen. "I'm going to explain this, Gar."

"I know you will, Rachel- but not today. I want you to be sure that it's what you want, not what you owe to me."

"You'll understand sometime."

"Don't look so sad now," he chided. He could wonder about just what she had to say later. "For now- I think we should get in there before Richard can turn any more colors. Jinx and Kori are ganging up on him."

"That's a girl's prerogative, isn't it? Don't worry- I'm sure that your turn will come."

"Well, that answers any questions about whether you're fully recovered," he pretended to grumble. He offered his arm. "I can escort you the eight feet between you and your chair."

She smiled. "Chivalry again?"

"Always."


	53. Question

_Starting from now, there will be no warnings about crude language. I won't use such language often, but for some characters- taking it out would change the character of what they're trying to say. I will provide warnings for any extreme of violence, but all language used is in the bounds of teen- I know I've heard far worse in the halls of my high school. One section of this chapter (they'll know which) is very affectionately dedicated to the many people in my math and science classes who are that adorable- especially to the people who helped me survive AP Calculus._

**Chapter Fifty-three: Question**  
For all her cursory grumbling, Jinx didn't mind the play-acting necessary to keeping her job. The rare use of respectful titles wasn't so bad, especially when she had a reputation as a smart-mouth. Office-work wasn't as easy to complete while keeping the proper image that she wasn't the designated report-finisher. She didn't slack off on jobs, but she didn't need any extra work. One hint of being a brown-noser meant that she would end up with a workload to rival Brain's, and that would not help her hobby of leaving for Victor's house at any opportunity. It was a tricky reputation to keep, but she managed. Jinx was known to be a very competent assistant who worked only for Rachel. She knew all of Trigon's regulations, could recite most bylaws accurately, and was known to suffer no fools. Jinx wasted no time in assignments. She knew what custom dictated, and just how a good little assistant not interested in too much attention acted.

Still, she paused as she checked over the logs. There was no way- but that was the right address. She had checked it twice. One of the "trap-sites" for possible recruits had monitored the progress through the sites. If the address provided from an illegal loop through the area's ISPs was right, she knew who would be looking through a website proudly affiliated with Trigon. All regulations stated that she would give the address to proper authority who could investigate. Instead, she made a telephone call.

"Gizmo, I'm having computer trouble. Could you come take a look, if you're not busy?"

"Yeah, sure," he said. "I'll just tell the pit-sniffers in observation to not touch the defaults while I'm away."

Jinx hung up the phone. That was a usual communication, nothing that random surveillance would seek out or care about. Somewhere, there was a record of the call from her cell and from the control room. She hadn't wanted to mention this log over a monitored channel. She impatiently tapped a series of keys again. Her laptop was encrypted, a mark of Rachel's persuasion- Jinx still smiled at the indignant speeches Rachel had given the blockheads in security, that her personal assistant's computer was monitored. E-mail was still scanned, but the files in the laptop were safe from scrutiny. Jinx reported only to Rachel, but Rachel didn't need to hear about this.

She checked again. Someone had bypassed the most frequent pages on Trigon's website, going straight to the search-the-site engine. Someone had typed in "Scath," looked at the results, and had not been satisfied. After that, various queries had been made until a final list of results produced a link intriguing enough to be clicked on. "Scath tattoo" had produced a section about Marks of Prestige.

Jinx followed the link herself, clicking with the mouse as the nails of her right hand clicked impatiently on the side of the computer. She willed the site to move faster. As expected, this section of the site featured only one picture of the Mark, as it was captioned. The file would not print, and very clear explanations gave the exact consequences for having that mark without proper authorization. Authorization could come only from Trigon himself, and extended only to those worthy of one day becoming a partner in his organization.

"Shit." Jinx thought that a more vulgar expletive would better sum up just what had happened, but that word came to mind.

"Now, Jinx, that isn't very ladylike," Gizmo said.

"Can it, Giz- I know you're not here for my ladylike personality. You hacked into the ISP mainframe for the area to set up surveillance. You know how to verify addresses, right? No trace, though- I think that I might have to warn this person."

Gizmo nodded, tapping a few keys from where he stood beside her. "4320 Sixteenth Avenue, on the main account of the personal computer of a Mr. and Mrs. Young. If you want more detail, click on the blue icon."

"No, that'll do. I should have known he'd go looking- the person who accessed this site searched especially for the page explaining exactly who gets to draw and wear Scath."

"Wear?" Gizmo asked. "I don't think Slade ever got the permanent approval, but he did have the insignia rights for awhile- as far as records go, only your boss and Trigon are that high up in the food chain."

"He was looking up my boss," Jinx said. "No word of this can leave, though- I know how the guy must have seen the tattoo she has."

"So, you want this record to not exist?" he asked.

"Yes, please- I'll talk with the person who created it," she said as he took her laptop. "There won't be a repeat." Gizmo pressed a series of keys, and the screen dissolved into programming language. She watched as he deleted a few segments of code and made his own addition.

"Nobody else knows about this," he said. "I can alter the timestamp on new files- that's a talent best kept quiet. Now, instead of someone looking at the Prestige page, we have someone at a sleazy internet-access café looking at the benefits page." Gizmo returned her screen to normal. He knew better than to comment on the wallpaper, an almost abstract unicorn. She could be very persuasive, when she chose to.

"Thanks, Mikron."

"Jinx, I've told you-"

"I know, I know- Mikron O'Jeneus probably isn't the best name to be saddled with, but do you ever not want to be Gizmo?"

He paused. "I don't know you that well anymore, Jinx. Ever since the HIVE went down- well, before that. Ever since Stone came in and messed with you, just like he promised me he wouldn't."

"He promised you what?" she asked.

Gizmo shrugged, uncomfortable. "I talked to him- long time ago, don't remember the details. Anyway, Jinx- I like what I'm doing. I like the steady paycheck, the respect I get around here, working with you and Mammoth and all the rest of the crowd. Anyway, Jinx- what you're getting at is that you're not so sure you like being a criminal."

"I didn't say that, Gizmo, and if you're-"

"Jinxy, you just asked me if I ever wanted to not be Gizmo."

"You haven't called me that in a long time," she said.

"Not since you were eight or so- remember that? Your first day at the academy, before you had the required fictional back-story straightened out, and you were so mad when Mammoth grunted that girls couldn't fight- we have our own stories, Jinx, and I'd miss you if you left."

"Sentimental, Giz?"

"Nah, I'd just miss knowing someone who's tight with Boss Jr.- and that was a joke, Jinx. Anyway, I'm guessing that you're covering for a Titan."

"Yes."

"I won't ask which one- but I will say that, if push comes to shove and it's Trigon against you… you won't be alone, Jinx. Maybe we're the bad guys in the equation, but we know who saved our hides when Atlas and Trigon hosted the throw-down. Just call me if you ever need backup, Jinx. Maybe it is a little sentimental- but you don't need to share that around. All the old crew's in on the follow-Jinx bit, and a few new people. Seemore, one of the new guys, is working on a few buddies of his to join up with us."

"Thanks, Giz. It means a lot."

"It's nothing, Jinx- but the offer also extends to the lump of lard you call a boyfriend. You're with him and in trouble, we'll keep him safe, but- if he ever gives you trouble, nobody messes with a friend of mine."

Jinx smiled. That was the Gizmo she knew. "That won't be necessary, _Mikron._"

"No fair using ammo like that when I can't shoot that right back at you," Gizmo said. "You ever going to 'fess up about your real name? Not even to me, much as I need the one-up in teasing you- that clunk-head you call a boyfriend, maybe."

"Someday soon, I hope," Jinx said. "Thanks, Giz- I'll make sure to get an extra bit on your check. I've been working on an official head tech. You'd better make sure the grease-monkeys from the automotive shop don't try fixing the secondary mainframe without you there- I'll come by later to see the old HIVE crowd and meet a few people. I just need to finish a phone call first."

"Sure, Jinx- and do you need a no-trace?"

"You're a lifesaver, Giz," she said, taking the offered phone. She could always count on him, when she needed someone inside the gang to lend her a hand. She didn't want Victor connected to this little conversation. "I'll bring it by later."

"I'll drop by and get it, Gizmo- that'd be less suspicious, if anyone in the observations deck decides that I'm Trigon Enemy Number One today. I'll fine a reason to mosey on down."

She waved, he waved back, and she waited for him to be out of sight from her doorway to fall back into her desk chair. As she had discovered two months ago, when she first landed the gig, wheeled chairs were not suitable for collapsing into. Another point she had discovered was that visitors, especially important visitors, would almost always make their way to her door when she was in a particularly ungraceful situation.

Someone knocked at the edge of her doorway just as Jinx felt the light prickle of something crawling on her arm. Jinx jerked violently- she knew for a fact Slade encouraged the black widow colony in the basement, just because he could- and proved that her faithful non-wheeled desk chair could indeed be put under too much stress. The spider went flying somewhere into her computer desk, the chair went in two different ways, and Jinx was three inches from a collision with the floor when the new arrival grabbed her wrist.

The abrupt stop was just as bad as the fall would have been, but perhaps there were less bruises involved. Jinx had to hand it to the woman- Ms. Jessica call-me-Jess-please-Ms.-Jinx Drew was extremely polite, and seemed more upset than anything by the situation. Jinx (call me Jinx, please- titles give me ulcers) drew a laugh with one of her standard repertoire of phrases, and industriously brought up personnel files.

"I see that the boys in the front office took your picture," Jinx said mildly, checking through records. Ms. Jessica Drew was one of the ladies who just might have attention paid by the slackers manning the front and center. "I hope you didn't let them use the green camera."

"One tried. A quick demonstration of the patella in action showed that I do have experience in all sorts of technology, weaponry or otherwise. My specialty is in information tech- security camera blockades and such, finding who's tampering with readouts- but I'm fully aware of the new experimental cameras that can see through clothing."

Instinct told Jinx to dislike Ms. call-me-Jess. Jinx didn't have much respect for instinct. "A good friend of mine unofficially heads information tech," Jinx said. If she could just get Gizmo to get along with Jess- Jinx had the feeling Ms. Drew would not be nearly so lenient in white-noising certain areas of the house for Rachel when she was employed by Trigon, if Jess was against the idea. If Gizmo was his usual charming self, Jinx just might find herself in trouble sooner rather than later.

"Really?"

Jinx didn't know just what the instinct to not like the girl had been- she had a steady boyfriend, and enough rebuked glances sent her way to know that she wasn't letting herself go. Jess was a computers dork, and that was the end of it- and Gizmo could appreciate someone who knew why 000000000001 was so vitally different than 0000000000001. "It'd be my pleasure. Gizmo can be a little prickly until you get to know him, but if you prove that you were hired for your brain instead of your looks, he'll get along. You do have experience from- HYDRA, it says here."

"I ran communications monitoring, checked for loops or alt. feeds in film, and know my way around central processing."

_Great. So, if she decides to not be on my side, I'm royally fucked. _"You'll definitely be of use, then," Jinx said, slowing as the walk to the communications center ended. "If you listen, you can hear the sound of our irate resident tech wizard." So she was pumping up her friend a little- there was nothing wrong with that. Jinx knew Giz didn't get much attention from girls, and that he would sooner ask Victor for help with a computer query than try unsuccessfully to ask someone out.

"What have I told you? Back up your data, crud-munchers- and don't tell me that I should loop my security code because you blockheads can't put on auto-save whenever you're working on something over green-level clearance. You, buy yourself a leap drive- no, I don't mean a jump drive. Those you can buy at Staples. You get yourself a leap drive out of your paycheck- those are Trigon-approved encrypted storage hardware that you can keep in here, in the little locked cubby with your employee number on it. You're done for the day- except you, Jenkins. I told you that HTML code needs to run on the stable server. Re-route it. Jenkins, if you're just going to blame someone else, go ask to be reassigned- and I know I showed you routing. I'll run sound alone- you all should go work for Microsoft. They need idiots who could crash a Linux."

Jinx kept a casual glance on Jessica- who didn't seem at all perturbed. Ms. Jessica Drew was smiling and making little attempt to hide it. Jinx cleared her throat, just enough to get Jess's attention. "My job for today is getting you to the communication center. Gizmo likes jobs done correctly, but he doesn't get trained employees, most of the time. Anyway, I know my responsibility towards a newly hired orange-level employee extends to the grand tour, but I'm swamped tonight- would you mind terribly if it's Gizmo or someone else?"

"No, not at all."

The words weren't too fast or too slow- but Jinx still had to work to hide a double-take. If she didn't know better- "Well, I'll introduce you and talk to Giz for a second," Jinx said, walking into the booth and catching a thrown stapler. "It's a learned skill," she said to Jess. "Gizmo, I told you that the temps couldn't learn hard jobs," Jinx said, observing the stray items four fleeing employees had left behind. Jenkins, whoever that had been, had also fled- Gizmo was doing the work. "They don't understand half of what you say, even before you start chastising them."

"I know, Jinx, but I told the dolts to not touch the defaults- explicitly, even. Someone else with you?" he asked, not looking away from the computer. "Whoever he is, I hope that he knows HTML from Java."

"Actually-" Jinx began, but Jess tapped her on the shoulder. Jinx decided that Ms. Drew could handle herself.

"I could write Java and HTML in grade school," Jessica said. "Just last week, I perfected the remote blocker for the infrared 'peek-a-boo' camera circulating in your building. I can't see all the code from here, but you're running a perpetual scanning loop for parameter-based suspicious activity on a webpage the moves through your server to the ISP requesting the info, then picks through security with- is that a 64-bit decoder?"

Gizmo turned around at 'perpetual scanning loop' and stayed facing away from his computer. He looked up, fought his eyes' urge to pause, and found himself looking into eyes the shade of a dark-shaded green LED indicator. She wasn't built like a programmer, but he could think about that later- there were security cameras in all hallways, and the last thing he needed to do was alienate someone who could mention 'parameter' without stuttering.

"Yeah," he said, a little belatedly. He pretended it had been intentional, that he had been psyching her out. Since he had remembered to keep his gaze at her eyes (Jinx had encouraged that lesson over a period of years), he felt that nothing too bad had happened. "There's a 124-bit piece of decrypt code later, but the user-personal codes rarely get past sixteen. Rich folk in the area are paranoid."

Jinx helped herself to the traceless cell resting on Gizmo's desk. She could thank him later- or not, by the way he was looking at Ms. Drew. For a second, Jinx thought that Jess just might have returned such a look- but inside gossip could wait. She crept from the room while the two talked of the best way to run a loop of code, in straight binary or through some new programming language that had a name Jinx couldn't hope to pronounce.

Jinx would have to convince Mammoth and Tia to hold off on a couple's dinner for one night- she had a bet to collect. She'd known that Giz wouldn't do too badly when talking with a girl he obviously liked- she'd trained him on that for two years, back when they still were at the HIVE.

By the time Jinx reached her room, the wing's janitor had already given her a replacement chair. It wasn't the same, of course- but she had a place to sit. Jinx resolved to continue her 'odd' habits that were 'unbefitting of one so high in command,' according to snots like Angie Hawkins over in Logistics. That showed what she and the other high-ups knew. Jinx remembered Jason's birthday, and Jason headed the custodial staff. One chocolate cake, several friendly remarks, and a couple months of keeping her room clean- and she was a low-maintenance Face. That meant that she didn't have to deal with req forms- Jinx didn't understand what arrogance on stupid things like notbeing friendly to people working for herwould ever win.

Jinx dialed and waited for someone at 4320 Sixteenth Avenue to answer.

"Hello, Shelia Young speaking."

For a dangerous moment, Jinx almost lost her composure. She hadn't expected his foster-mom. _That's why you don't expect anything, idiot- just like all those silly seminars you don't need to pay attention to say. _"Hi, Mrs. Young. This is Jinx. May I speak with Gar, please?" Polite and young- that was what she needed. Jinx was ready when Gar picked up the phone with some muffled comment to his mother.

"Jinx?"

"Mr. Logan, I'm calling as personal assistant to the Taniste- that's Trigon's second-in-command, but Taniste is the new word because it's much, much easier to say. Anyway, it's standard protocol to send out a squad for any promising folk who've been visiting Trigon's site, especially the prestige sections. The record is wiped from existence safely- this time. Next time, you may not be so lucky."

"Why so formal?" She had tried to sound personal, for a minute- but that had slipped.

"This is a serious matter. The few people who know more than whispers about Scath- those who have seen it in something more than fire, for example- do not look on that website. If you wish for more information, use a more direct source."

"I'll find another way, then, that can't be traced."

"Thank you. And, just as an aside- thanks. I don't know how many people could have kept a 'splotch of red' quiet." It was a risk, saying that- but Jinx wanted to make sure he knew that she knew.

"I- I don't know what you mean. It was just some spare blood from a cut," he said.

"Gar, I'm much more practiced than you are at lying. You're a nice guy, and you have quite a few puzzle pieces in front of you." Jinx wouldn't tell. Not only did Rachel not want anyone else to tell- it was Rachel's secret, not hers.

"So we're on first name terms now?" he asked coolly.

He was better than she had guessed. "Yeah, we are."

"How do you know about a red splotch?"

"Don't worry about it."

He paused, with the air of someone who knows exactly what's going on. "I think I should, if clearance is low enough that you're chatting with me."

"I'm on a traceless, Gar. Slade knows from Trigon, Rachel's dad is psychotic, and I'm risking a lot to keep you under the radar. I can't tell you much, but I can give you a limited heads-up."

"I know, but I can't help worry."

"Speaking of worry- Rachel's on her way over to your place," Jinx said, anticipating his reaction. The event was unfortunately muffled, but something had tipped over. "Is your mom home long?"

"No- she's already left for the hospital."

"Good. Rachel doesn't want an audience. She's been nervous all day- she was pounding on the treadmill this morning, and came dangerously close to angsting at breakfast. Angsting- can you believe it? Just shows that she has limits, too."

"You had breakfast with her?" Gar had let too many little mentions slip by. He was missing something, and he wanted find out just what it was.

_Shit. _"She let me crash at her place- I'm good at sneaking in and out unobserved." All technically true. "Passing things to Orc, I have to be."

"Orc?"

"I'm in Trigon's place- more bugs than a prison. Even without operational bugs in my room, I'm going to be careful and stay away from titles."

"Oracle."

"Of course. Anyway, Rachel's house- even if her dad did find me, there's not much he could do to hold me over Rachel's head. I have a few too many criminal connections for that. Besides, he couldn't get to Rachel through me."

"And he could get to her through me?"

"Obviously. With how much of a state she was in about talking to you- it's something big." Jinx glanced at her laptop. No new messages- but Tia was online. She rapped in a quick message and glanced at the reply as Gar said something about being nervous- "Sorry, Gar, I have to go- something's come up," she said quickly. Tia and Mammoth would be ready for gossip in two minutes. "Call me- no, call Victor. I'll talk to him later. Good luck!"

Gar couldn't believe she had just hung up on him like that. Something was going on, he had no idea what to think, Jinx had some odd sort of sway with Rachel's mysterious father- _Jinx _knew about that red mark, when he had covered it with a cloak at first chance so that no one else would ask questions.

He heard a quiet knocking at the door- if he hadn't been in the kitchen, he might not have heard it. "Coming," he said- when he was that close to the door, he didn't have to yell. He took a second to take a deep breath. Something weird was going on, that involved Rachel, Jinx, and the mark of Scath.

Contradictory thoughts cluttered her mind. She needed to run and she needed to stay, she wanted to say it now and she wanted an excuse to wait- she was relieved and terrified when the door opened and he said her name, just her name. True to form, that made it easier and harder. She could tell him; she knew he would listen.

"We need to talk."

Of anything he might have expected, he hadn't been ready for a cliché. "About what?" With the way he was still trying to put together the many small clues she must have unintentionally given him over the school year, even that response took thought.

_Me. Go on, say it- short, blunt, direct, everything you try to be in speech- _"It's hard to summarize, or even explain. I will tell you, though, in a minute." She wasn't sure how that meandering reply had escaped, but it was too late to be eloquent. She couldn't stop bland speech, but what she had to say was enough excitement. She accepted offers of coming in, a seat, and a cup of tea- the last mostly so he would be out of the room for a minute so she could start an attempt to clear her thoughts.

_Focus- in, out. That's with breathing, as you know very well- there. He has to know, and better now than later. Would you rather that he found out from someone else? There's still a chance. Try to be a little optimistic, like he's always telling you._

He expected at least a glare when he glanced at her from the kitchen a second time- but she was still frowning at her hands. Something hadn't been right for a long time. She had let it slip, just once, that her father didn't approve of any emotion that wasn't anger. It explained something, maybe- but not why that fit with Jinx and her mother and that mark. Maybe her father wanted her protected.

She wanted him to not come back at all, to be back already- she didn't know what she wanted.

He hadn't found much information, but that mark, when unapproved was an even greater danger. Only Trigon could approve that. Even his almost-partner, due for power in a month or so, didn't have that right. He knew that Rachel wouldn't have done it- well, he thought he knew. She wouldn't have, so why was it there?

She didn't know at all what she wanted, and maybe that was the problem. She did attempt a smile when he returned, but she had to set the cup and saucer down after only a sip of tea. It wasn't at all soothing, not when she most needed to relax. Tea couldn't do enough.

"Did I make it wrong?"

"No- it's fine. It's better than fine." She paused, just for a moment, again remembering her breathing. "I need to tell you something, Gar. I've been thinking about it for awhile, but it's long past time. I've never told anyone, so it's hard."

What did he say to that? He said nothing, and was relieved when she continued.

"If you must interrupt, go ahead- but it would be easier for me if I could just say this." She had stood when it seemed imminent that he would move closer, but staying still was more than she could manage. She moved through the narrow room. The long space between the couch and the television gave her room to move.

"I'll listen, Rae." He tried to give her a return to normalcy- but she didn't react at all.

"I never meant for it to get this far. I meant to- well, you saw. I wasn't supposed to let anyone get close. Until even January, my grand plan to get around all of this was to run away when it became too late.

"You didn't buy that. Victor was a steady friend- I needed someone who wouldn't push. He and I are better friends, now- but then, I would have left. Kori is- Kori. I would have tolerated her, but I thought she was a typical good-doer. Most left after four days at the most, sensing that I didn't act like a good make-over project. Richard and I mutually respected and ignored each other for years. We covered for each other a few times, about just who caused havoc for various teachers, but that was different. You didn't fit any of my patterns, though- you changed your mind about me.

"That's not even what I need to talk about. That's- a long time ago. This all started long before you came to town. My dad- I can't blame him, not completely. He's only a part of this mess.

"I-" She didn't recall when she had stopped her restless motions, but she started again. "My dad's been getting better, a little, and that's because of my mom. It's hard for her, but she doesn't ignore everything going on. She'll match him, posture for posture. The idiot that is technically my father even figured out that if he wants me to follow in his footsteps, he might want me to like him before he proposes the partners deal. I've learned to fight, but he wants more. He wants too much, but he always has. I know I'm rambling, but- he's a part of this.

"It's easiest to explain this through my father. I haven't given him a name since November- you've heard his name, though, his real name. You know I created a few false people. I know you have, since- we have, and-"

She stopped as she sat down, as if the slight jarring was enough to stop all words that came to mind. He wouldn't interrupt, even as he found the edge of the puzzle. He had the four corners, all the edges of the puzzle- and he was pretty sure what the middle had to be.

He knew where the red began. He traced where the patterned S just might be. Her father, the mark, Jinx, breakfast, Angela and Christiana, late nights, talks with Slade-

She didn't pull away. Why should she? He had to know, if he had seen. He knew her father was-

"Trigon. That's why you have that, why all your accidental slips make sense, and why you've kept so quiet."

"He's my father."

"Full cognal primogeniture, right?" he asked, remembering the term from the website.

"It would have been tanistry- the most able. As it is, I'm an only child."

Her voice was anything but monotone, and she was facing away. Was she- she was shaking, just a little. "I'm here, Rae. I'm not going anywhere."

Finally, she remembered. This was her midnight- it was time to leave- "Let go, Gar." His hand was on her wrist, warm and steady. "I'll give you time to think about that."

"I know you could pull away, if you wanted to. With your kind of past, you've learned tricks for getting away. I won't let go. I've had time to think, since August- and Slade was trying to get you to do this, Rachel- to make you leave your friends."

"It would be better."

"No, it wouldn't. You still can leave, Rachel. I have some idea of how hard it is, saying something like that. So, today, you want time- but I'll call you at 12:01 A.M."

"Gar-" She didn't know how to convince him otherwise.

"Jinx works for you, right?"

"Yes."

"I'll convince her. I don't care if I have to go to Trigon's house; it will not be goodbye forever if you leave."

"You better not- don't you get it? Angela has Mallah and Brain backing her, and they've brought over a few other big-name underlings. Jinx is her ally. She's safe- Trigon can't touch her without good reason. You aren't safe, not at all."

"So we'll be careful."

She didn't want to leave. "We could put this on hold, for a month or so." She took a step away- just as he said, he didn't let go. "You know now, Gar- I told you I was dangerous." She took a second step back- he moved with her, keeping the distance she wanted. She would run if he stepped closer, she didn't know what she'd do if he stayed that far away.

"You're not dangerous to me, Rae. I'm not going to be the one to let go. I know you'll talk yourself up about that later, twist it around to hurt yourself. If you really want to leave, I wouldn't stop you, even if I could."

"On my birthday, I won't be able to play the part of the dutiful daughter. Will you stay safe when I refuse to follow my father?"

"It would be a lie, if I promised that."

"Gar, I won't let you get hurt."

"And I won't leave you to do this alone, so we'll just have to work together," he said. "I trust you, Rae, and I don't think you want to leave. Stay with me. It won't work forever, I know- but for a few hours, it will."

She jerked her wrist away, easily forcing him to lose his grip with a trick her mother had taught her years and years ago. She took two steps forward- she had known that he was too far away. She sat hard, after hitting her knee on the end table in the sudden motion. It was too big, too much to think about.

He didn't think. Sometimes, it was better to just react, and she didn't need any sort of speech, not now. He knew just what to do, when she was leaning close and calming slowly. All he had to do was wait, and keep saying quiet things that didn't have to make sense. The phone rang almost two hours later, long after the tears had stopped.

"She's okay?" Jinx asked. "I couldn't wait any longer, and since she wasn't wandering outside your neighborhood- I'm outside, no interference."

"She's fine. I'll just have to worry more about her, but- you can look after her, right? When I can't be around?"

"Somebody has to look after her," Jinx said, fondly derisive. "She'd remember to save everyone but herself. She asleep?"

"How did you know?"

"She got next to no sleep last night, she's been moving all day, and you just asked me to look after her while using the third person. As for watching out- don't worry. I just met with a few good friends, and Trigon's control isn't absolute. There's an outside funnel for some extra payroll- something Trigon can't touch. My friends started this for me, but they'll end with her. If she wanted to be a leader- she'd do a hell of a job. As it is- well, we're working on a Plan B."

"What's Plan A?"

"Not going to work- it amounts to 'run like hell,' as I'd put it. She has fancier terms, but she agrees. Just yesterday, I put paperwork through with some LeBeau in a big crime family over by the parts of the Big Easy not mauled by Katrina. As far as I'm concerned, though, the worst is over. She's beginning to understand Trigon- there might be some way to work around him."

"What was the worst?"

"Telling you," Jinx said. That was an easy answer, after solid weeks of doubts on that matter. "If you talk to Victor- tell him I'll explain everything soon. I don't want to start and leave out half of the reasons."

"I'll talk to him- and thanks, for calling."

"Business as usual, that's all," Jinx said briskly. "Now that I don't have to cover up that little fact, I can do my job- I'm very good at misinformation propaganda. I spread a few tales, underlings exaggerate. Within a month, talk will say you have superpowers."

"Will we need superpowers?"

"No," Rachel said.

"I'm guessing you've heard me, too," Jinx said into the silence.

"You did have the speakerphone on quiet, Gar, but I'm a light sleeper."

"I'm heading back to your place, Rachel- if Trigon asks, you're…"

"Around town, nowhere in particular- and did Brain run those stats for me, about the new regulations?"

"On your desk tomorrow, with way more evidence than you asked for. I'm going to check with a new tech recruit to make sure Gizmo won't have to work against anyone."

"What's the new techie like?" Rachel asked.

"I'll introduce her tomorrow. I'm pulling a few strings to make her a permanent in electronics, and that'll only be confirmed if she's on your side. The lady found a way to program a shortcut in Giz's 128-bit breaker."

"How did Gizmo take it?" Rachel asked. She knew just how competitive he could be. "Gizmo and Mammoth are on my side, Gar, as much as anyone involved under Trigon can be. Gizmo and company still are not pleased with Trigon for the HIVE demolition."

"You'll have to see this, Rachel- she heard him ranting at the usual temps the staff department shoves in. She went in, cool as ice, spouted some techno babble, and started working. It's been two hours- she's still in there. Giz let her go over the camera sweep patterns. And, best of all- she doesn't like Trigon. She has a rap sheet, so she's stuck on illegal tech- but if you pull down Trigon… 'might be leniency' could be enough."

"Giz let her at the cameras?" Rachel asked. "And I could get leniency if not a job- I know that Babs could run a few trust-protocols over her. Gizmo hasn't broken into Oracle's server yet, so Babs just might be able to keep the new girl around." A few tamper-proof codes would help, maybe- she'd talk to Barbara later. Oracle had been telling her to tell the team- Rachel finally had good news. "And Gizmo didn't let Slade at the camera sweeps."

"I think Gizmo finally has someone to work with. That means that he can work with you a little more, since he doesn't have to do every bit of coding. And Tia just sent me an e-mail- she just plugged a 'hit' into his search for Oracle. He doesn't know who Oracle is, I won't tell him- but I feed him a few stories. She just 'found' a new clue to fit the profile of the elderly tech wizard. She found one of Oracle's sources: he jogs through neighborhoods."

"Oracle jogs?" Gar asked.

"Misinformation is much better than nothing at all- this isn't suspicious, but it'll keep Trigon away from the real deal. Trigon had half a clue, once, about the force, but I undid that with a few forged papers."

"Where are you?" Rachel asked. "That sounds like a pretty busy road."

"I'm heading towards the area around Victor's house," Jinx said. "A package showed up in the mail for me today- I wanted to show him what someone sent me, even if I can't explain everything yet."

"Should I tell him before you get there?" Rachel asked. "It doesn't seem like something that should be said over the phone- maybe I should go to his house."

"I'll tell him, if you don't mind," Jinx said.

"I know you've wanted to- good luck."

"As if I need it," Jinx scoffed. "And- congrats, you two. It's about time I get to stop running interference." She hung up, pleased with a day's work. One new tech that just might help her cause, one big cat out of the bag, and time to speak with Stone.

"You must have an interesting workday," Gar said. "Is that typical?"

"Almost- usually, we're juggling paperwork," Rachel said. "Just the usual stuff. My pet project is taking up most of it- I put in a few new bylaws that ban unnecessary danger to bystanders. I wrote that it increases productivity, so now I'm proving it."

"You know what the weirdest part of this is?"

"I couldn't begin to rank everything."

"This actually is close to normal, for us," Gar said. "Thank you, for telling me. We'll get this together yet, Rae."

"This?"

"Your grand plan for whatever's going on with your dad, of course," he said. "But- not tonight. Tonight, my parents are both working late- we have plenty of time to eat dinner here. Trigon-free zone," he promised. "So, since the choices are tofu, tofu, or pasta with no-meat sauce, going by what we have around, I think we can stay away from the tofu."

"No, I'll try some," Rachel said.

"Next you'll be laughing at my jokes," he said. "All this change in one day- we'll be set for two weeks." She did smile- which was more than enough of a victory. If Victor was going to find out from Jinx- after dinner, he just might suggest a visit to Kori and Richard. Maybe- that depended on how receptive she was to the idea, how late it was when they finally chose and made a meal, and just how willing he would be to share her. Of course, once everyone knew and Rachel had "something to do" every afternoon- he was willing to bet that Jinx would approve of getting Rachel "out of her hair" (and out of the house, but Jinx liked her reputation). She asked why he was smiling- he said "you" and didn't stop when she punched him (lightly) in the arm. He threw a box at her; she retaliated with a bag of noodles. When they ran out of ammunition, they started cleaning the kitchen. Everything went back in its place, even if they had to guess where a few dustier packages belonged. They would work this out. He would make sure of it.


	54. Angles of Incidence

_A few portions of dialogue brought to you by Tom, who is one of the oddest (and most tactless) friends a girl could have- I'll miss him when we go off to college. All titles in this chapter are based on physics; look them up if you're curious. Seemore will be known as Seymour whenever mentioned- without powers, it just makes more sense.This chapter was posted a day earlier than planned(posted June 1st, 2006) to celebrate my survival of the AP Calculus final- no more AP Calculus! All may rejoice (and not mention that I'll be taking Calculus II at my university next year). This chapter is dedicated with lots of love to all my fellow math/science/technology dork friends- we all survived, we're all going to college, and I'll see quite a few classmates at university._

**Chapter Fifty-four: Angles of Incidence**  
It had sounded like a far better idea when she had proposed it. It was more than she knew how to say, how much she appreciated that he wasn't going to disappear on her- but she had to do this on her own. It wasn't fair, otherwise. She didn't want the likely reaction to be changed because there was company. Gar had insisted on coming along to wait outside, however, and appeared at ease lounging on the grass in Richard's front yard.

"I don't know about this, Gar." Rachel wasn't quite pacing, but her progress towards the front door was stuttering.

"No one does, with something like this- Jinx is talking to Victor, at least. So, you only have two more people to tell." He had already volunteered to tell one person, or at least help her- but she was stubborn, when she found what she thought was the right way, and he wouldn't talk her out of the idea. It was better, coming from her, and she would avoid any pressure on the audience.

"Richard should understand," Rachel said. She had been much more worried about Gar- but he had to hear first. Gar was the one in the most potential danger from his connection to her- and who else would she open up to about something so big? "Maybe."

"Go in and give him a shot, then." Gar had eased back (slightly) into his usual habits of pushing, her just a little. "And I'm serious about what I said, Rae- if he doesn't like the idea, just leave. I'll talk with him tomorrow, to make sure that he knows your point all the way."

"I'm going, I'm going," she said. "Thanks, Gar- and could you answer my cell, if Jinx calls? Tell her to go to Victor's already- if I've been fussing about telling you, she's been fretting about deviating from some fictional past on file." Rachel let herself in the front door, as usual. Just as Richard had mentioned, Alfred was out. Selina and Bruce were out to a movie. Richard was in the basement, for once not in the gym.

"You want to talk, don't you?"

She smiled, taking a seat at the table. There was enough space left that she didn't feel crowded- to think, she'd worried about first introducing the topic. "What was your clue- asking if you were home alone, or asking if you were busy when you know I'm not up to training?"

"Both, and how you sounded on the phone."

"We can do this the blunt way, right? It's probably rude to put what I have to say in this fashion, but it'll spare us the meaningful lead-up small talk."

"Okay, spill," Richard said, leaning back in his chair.

"I'm Trigon's only daughter, the second-in-command of organized crime, and the partner that's due to take power in a month."

He blinked. It seemed the smartest reaction.

"Jinx and I are working on a way around this, I've been working with Barbara for awhile now, and Slade messed with me to try and get me off the team."

"Even without the possibility to go against Slade- we're a five-person team. With our usual strategy- Cy up the middle, Star and I on the right, you and BB flanking the left- it would be a shame to miss the left point." He leaned back again. "You know, you could have saved us a lot of worry if we'd known it was you."

"I know."

"Of course- it's not easy, is it? When you're little, you hardly know how to keep it quiet, but once you're a little older… some kids put their toys away, some learn to keep secrets."

"So, consider myself chastened for not talking about this sooner, get back to business Friday night? I have it on very good authority that some psycho working under me in some complex way is planning something pretty nasty, and she planned so that Mallah is only backed by Brain in the field. I can talk down Brain, and probably get Mallah to stop- I know too many bylaws that could make him stop dead in the field."

"Practice Friday afternoon, of course- Kori said that she's my designated workout buddy until Bruce says otherwise. She's easier to not cross, with the way she'd go on and disapprove."

"I know."

"It might not be what you're predicting," Richard said. "She's going to be here in about twenty minutes. At about that time, I could find some pressing business in the backyard."

"Take Gar with you, then- he waited outside. I didn't want to pressure you, with an audience."

"He knows, I'd hope?" Richard said.

"He guessed, actually- he saw my tattoo and put two and two together."

"Tattoo?" Richard asked.

"Slade slashed at my leotard to show it off- you didn't see it? Bright red, mark of Scath, wonky-looking S, matched the shape of the fire?"

"Gar got there first, when we saw you- as fast as we all were moving, he had you wrapped up in your cloak before we could make it. All I saw was the red, where the cut was- he and Barbara said that you had a bit of blood there."

"He didn't tell me that," Rachel said.

"He also probably didn't tell you that he carried you all the way out, right? The quarter-mile walk, after he'd already helped me around whenever Kori looked tired- we looked for hours, trying to find you. He wouldn't take any help- and that tattoo's probably the reason he was so fastidious about the cloak. He just said that he was respecting how shy you were, and wouldn't say anything else."

"He did?" Rachel asked. "We have nineteen minutes, still- he'd never tell me any of this," she said. "I need to get something to gain immunity- he and Jinx are thick as thieves, and I need any help I can get."

Gar let himself in as stealthily as he could ten minutes later. It shouldn't take her this long, when she was planning to be blunt- Richard was talking when he started to move down the stairs. Gar heard the end of a story all about- him. Great. He was interrupting a talk-about-Gar session.

"Hi, Gar," Rachel said, noticing him on the stairs. "Richard was just telling me about Sunday," she said, suddenly a little shy.

Richard cleared his throat, fully aware that he wasn't at all convincing. "Well, Kori's going to be here in nine minutes, and I'm going to- get a cough drop." He ignored the fully-stocked medicine cabinet in the basement. "I'll be down later." He didn't need the excuse to leave, with the way that the two were looking at each other- and if they were too distracted to move themselves to wherever they would be comfortable doing whatever they did when they were comfortable, he would just go upstairs.

"You know, the only dirt I can get about you is nice stuff," she said. "I don't know how I'm going to keep you and Jinx from ganging up on me, at this rate."

"You know that we'd conspire to get you out of the house, right?"

"Yes, but I do have useful stuff to do, and-"

"People to help you with it, not that you like letting other people do the work. You don't have to do everything yourself."

"Richard was telling me all about what you did, for me- thank you."

He shifted uncomfortably- he hated being caught when he was doing something right. "It was for you, Rae. I'm not sorry at all." Gar noticed that Richard was gone- when had he left?

"You don't need to be."

Her voice was a little- different. It wasn't normal, by usual standards, but it wasn't flat- it was like she was slowly warming, just a little. "Um- thanks?" She had never looked at him like that, before, and he wasn't sure what to say. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights- maybe he should run, before something happened, but maybe those lights meant something good was about to happen-

"The last time we tried this, I started it, moved fast, and probably should have aimed about three inches to the right."

"Are you saying-"

"I've heard good things about it- and you know just what I'm talking about," she said with a knowing smile. He was blushing a rather interesting shade. That's why she could look collected- if he was that nervous, someone had to pretend the idea was natural. "We could forget the usual chivalry and both lead, a little- because I'd think you'd be interested."

**.Refraction.**  
"Victor? Are you home?" As per her usual habits, Jinx announced her presence from the back door. For that day, however, she was not very loud about it. Such a pity, he wasn't home, she'd just have to call again-

"I'll be up from the basement in a minute," he yelled- the only way his voice would carry upstairs past a few sound-deadeners. A few noisy pieces of equipment resided in the basement.

Jinx chided herself for thoughts of fleeing. She was not going to give up. This wasn't even her secret- and she hadn't been very sympathetic to Rachel's worries. Jinx's hand closed around the small package in her hand until her knuckles were paler. "Victor honey, I got mail today," she said, latching onto the usual sarcasm.

"From whom?"

She smiled- he did his grammar teachers proud. "Wally West."

"What did he send?"

"This." She had already opened the package, of course, after having it checked for anything suspicious- anyone could write W.W. in the upper left hand corner of an envelope. She held out a delicate necklace, a silver charm on a nice chain that Wally must have provided.

"A unicorn?" he asked.

"I like them," she said defensively. This wasn't what she had planned- but she hadn't planned a word of the conversation, so that wasn't a shocker.

"I don't see why not," he said. "They're gorgeous, rare, and could probably gore you while you were still admiring the horn."

She smiled. "You're a rare kind, too."

"Nah, just smart enough to avoid being gored for yet another exchange- and do you want me to help with that clasp?"

"Sure," she said, watching as he took the necklace. She wasn't sure how he would do. Even if it was the kinder lobster-claw catch, the chain still was delicate enough to do little more than sparkle in the light. She didn't expect him to finish within a second- or to be disappointed that he was good. She had little excuse to stay with his arms around her, because she had a few more details to give.

"Beautiful," he said, not clarifying what (who) he meant- she knew that he was looking her in the eye.

"Victor- my boss said I can tell who's who, now," Jinx said, unconsciously testing the unicorn's horn on her finger. It was sharp, but not enough to break the skin. "All I want to know is that you'll hear me out, first- don't get mad straight off."

"Why would I get mad?" he asked.

There was no way she could draw this out. "Rachel. Rachel is my boss- Trigon's second-in-command and all that."

"She's _what?"_

"Trigon's daughter- and she only told Gar because I've been nagging at her since Sunday, and he saw her tattoo. She thought that everyone saw it, but Gar apparently covered it up since no one else has wondered why Scath was showing up." Jinx was talking entirely too fast- but she couldn't recall Victor looking that hurt. "Victor, I'm only telling you because I asked. I wanted to explain why I've kept something like this from you, to prove that I'm done keeping secrets like that."

"Rachel never told me, in all the years I've known her."

"She's never told anyone, Victor- I only knew because I was a criminal. You know, as in I've seen Trigon and Rachel? So, I kept her secret. Only the facts that she's going to have to do something in a month and Slade and Trigon are starting to mess around made her convinced that she should tell. It was never anything against you, Victor- and I guessed you'd react like this."

"What, unreasonably?"

"No- that you'd be hurt," she said, not allowing herself to flinch at how bitter he sounded. "And with how Rachel's been- she's had that secret over her head since birth, Vic. By the time she met you, just saying it wasn't something she was used to. By the time she was old enough to question her parents- she knew just how serious it was. That was the blackmail Terra had on her, you know- who her daddy was. If Terra could use it like that, it isn't something she'd say casually." She wanted to just hold him until that look left his eyes- but he was staying away from her, and that made some space inside her torso ache like someone had landed a good kick to an internal organ without touching the skin.

"So, she didn't tell it to me."

"No, you dope- I wanted to tell you, because I guessed that you'd be hurt- and for good reason. You've been her friend longest, but she still told Gar first- and do you know why? Because you're her oldest friend, and you wouldn't push her. You would let her get away without saying it, when she was that upset- and don't look upset. She needed- and needs- a friend she can just talk to, one who won't need to work it out."

She paused for breath. He didn't say anything. "Victor- I know you're hurt. This is the main reason I volunteered to come. She was about ready to burst just thinking about talking- to you, especially. Once she got herself up to telling you- you'd be upset. I understand that. So would she, in retrospect. But, if you were upset when she was in that kind of state- well, I don't know how she'd react. She was about two deep breaths from tears at her house- I don't know how she got the idea fixed in her head, but she thought she was through as a Titan, with her friends. I'm used to having people mad about crap like that. Gizmo told me his real name years ago- I've never told a soul mine, and I think he's still a little sore that I keep that subject quiet. It's for her, Victor- she's had a bad day. You know how controlled she usually is. Without that, even a disapproving look might set her off- and you'd have to spend a lot more time calming her down, assuming you wanted her around.

"If you're still mad, I'm sorry. I'm sure she's sorry, too, and you can call and be angry if you still want- and I'll apologize to her, on the probable chance that I messed this up. What she does, though- she never asked to be Trigon's daughter, or second-in-command. Once she finds a way to get out while keeping you and Gar and Kori and Richard safe, she'll be relieved. As it is- she's saving lives."

"I get it," he said.

"You don't need to 'get it,' Victor," Jinx said. "It's okay, to be mad. Everyone gets mad sometimes. Just- get mad at me. It'd hurt more coming from you, of course, but I've heard most of everything."

"You really are close to who you work for."

"She covers for me whenever I want to come over to see you- and she does feel horrible about lying about her parents, but what else was she supposed to do? Never mention them? Tell her eight-year-old friend about Trigon? Even later, she never knew when to bring it up."

"I don't think that fits with our usual conversations, no- except the time I pushed about her dad, but I think she panicked a little. This at least explains why she was so convinced that she shouldn't tell."

"So, I've told you Rachel's big secret," Jinx said. "I have one of my own, too- if you want to hear it."

"You know I do."

"My real name's Jane Collins," she said.

"Jane?"

"Well, I liked keeping the same first sound, when I wanted to come up with a past my parents couldn't follow. It's the classic fairy tale story- or not. My mom had an affair with her boss, she split with my dad to end up with that sod, my dad turned to switching between brooding and finding anything with two X chromosomes to stay the night, and I ended up in the middle of a custody battle. That's when I left- last I heard, they were in court fighting over who had what part of the money left for my inheritance. Whoever won can collect that soon- once I'm missing for seven years, I'm legally gone and the money my grandpa left for me is up for grabs."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

She almost refused, out of hobby- but he was serious, and all traces of hurt and slight anger was gone. He was concerned, just for her- and that was enough to keep her talking, however soft her voice became. "I never have, before- I don't know how much sense it would make."

"If it doesn't make sense, I'll try to understand anyway. Talking about it is more important."

"Is it any wonder Rachel went to your house to feel better? She told me, once, that coming over here was what kept her from giving up." She sat heavily on his couch, comforted by the soft leather- and even more comforted when he sat beside her, and she could lean against him. Almost a full minute later, she started. "It started three years before I left home, when my mom lost her job as a secretary when the local schools lost funding and had to take a job with a less education-oriented boss…"

**.Rarefaction.**  
Kori had agreed readily enough to come over to Richard's house for some kind of talk with Rachel. Her house was not ideal, with the way her sister had taken to carrying on recently, and Rachel had been especially nervous the day before. She was surprised that Alfred didn't greet her at the door- no matter how quietly she opened the front door, he invariably greeted her when home- before she remembered that he was on his weekly shopping trip.

She decided to head directly downstairs. If Rachel was waiting, there was no need to bring any more difficulty to what could be a tense exchange. She paused before she reached the bottom of the staircase, debating just how quietly she could go back upstairs. She would hate to disturb Garfield and Rachel, if they were previously occupied- and Rachel looked perfectly content. Kori could only see the back of Garfield's head, but guessed he was just as enthralled. She carefully edged her foot up a stair, trying to not make a noise.

She had gone up eight more stairs and made a turn when Richard started down the stairs. Kori quickly put a finger on her lips, making sure Richard caught the gesture. She shook her head as she made it up the last steps. There was no need to embarrass her friends- Rachel had blushed and mentioned something about how she wasn't sure what to do next just last week. Kori would speak with her privately to congratulate her- that was a very good next step.

"What's going on down there?" Richard asked quietly, after Kori brought him into the front room. They were twenty feet from the grandfather clock, but that seemed enough.

"Gar and Rachel do not need to be interrupted," Kori said innocently. "I believe they are previously occupied."

"You mean-"

"There is no real need to discuss it," Kori said firmly. "They are not, after all," she added a moment later with an impish grin. "And it's about time- Rachel just mentioned within the last week that she wasn't sure where a normal relationship would progress."

"So did Gar- he was grilling me about all the signals, but I finally had to tell him I wasn't completely sure about the signs on whether or not a girl wanted you to kiss her. I mean, I know now, but when we started out…" He still was amazed by how much Kori could blush at the simplest reminder of that day. "That took care of what would have been lengthy deliberations, I can tell you that for sure."

"She looks much more relaxed," Kori said. "What ever did she need to say, to be so nervous?"

"I know she wanted to tell you- and she will, if you would rather hear it from her. It's about her father."

"What about her father?"

"Who he is," Richard said. "Kori- if I tell you, I don't want you to get mad at Rachel. She's been keeping a secret for a long time."

Kori frowned. "But why? Her father is an agent of the FBI, yes?"

"Actually- no." Richard didn't know why he had volunteered- except that Kori hadn't wanted to disturb Gar and Rachel, and those two needed all the time together they could get. "Rachel's dad is on the FBI's Most Wanted list for California in the top five. Nationally, he's in the top fifteen."

"Who is he?"

"Trigon."

Richard tried again after a minute of silence. "She's the second-in-command that Jinx has been keeping quiet- and Barbara has mentioned that she and Eve have known. Rachel just was nervous about telling the team."

"Is this why she had an influence over Slade, however slight?"

"I think so."

"And why she keeps such odd hours at home?"

"I'm pretty sure."

"And why she lied about her father?"

"Yes."

Kori made up her mind. "She and Gar have had enough time- they can always resume." She made her way towards the stairs before Richard could react, and was loud enough going downstairs that Rachel and Gar were sitting apart.

"Rachel," she began clearly. "Are you the daughter of Trigon?"

Rachel froze for a second, when Kori's eyes were unreadable- but there was one possible answer. She had to tell the truth now. "Yes."

Kori had taken the few steps necessary to wrap her friend in a hug before she began to speak ."You should have told us," she admonished. "Rachel, to think of keeping that to yourself- no more."

Richard had followed a few steps behind, unsure about Kori's reaction. She never was the same twice, especially when it came to anything close to a lie. When it was clear that Rachel was going to be comforted, he went back upstairs- he had noticed a familiar car pulling into the drive. He was at the door when Victor and Jinx walked up the drive.

"You know?" Richard asked.

"That's some greeting," Jinx scolded. "And, yes, he does- I know that you guys might have deserved to hear first, but I knew long ago."

"Does Kori?" Victor wasn't sure how Kori would take the news.

"I told her," Richard said. "Rachel meant to, but Kori didn't want to intrude on a moment that she and Gar was having. I followed, after she learned just to make sure she wouldn't go supernova on Rachel- but Kori hugged her without the possibility of breaking anything. We're good."

"It's about time," Jinx said. "So, the obvious step is to all go talk to the girl." Jinx made her way to the basement. She had been hesitant, last time- but she belonged there just as much as the rest of them. Rachel had mentioned Mallah's new assignment, set up by Rouge- and Jinx might as well give them a few warnings.

"Rachel, it's unanimous," Jinx announced.

"What's unanimous?"

Jinx decided to take a few liberties. "You're a goose for thinking they'd all leave you to me and your father. They're still here, you still have all your ribs intact- so, no more freaking out about Trigon. Okay?"

"You all were unanimous in calling me a goose?" Rachel asked dryly.

"Artistic license, honey," Jinx said.

"Someone's in a good mood." Rachel's tone switched to sly. "You finally decide to bring a few of your own skeletons out of the closet?"

"You must have some interesting stories, living with Trigon," Victor said, diplomatically changing the subject. Rachel and Jinx would have time to tease each other later- and he would rather not hear Jinx's account of their talk.

"Some disturbing, some funny," Rachel agreed. "My mom's credited with the whole transformation bit- the whole organization is changing, and just about everybody's scared of her."

"Of Angela?" Richard asked.

"She couldn't hit the floor with a water gun, but she has Trigon close to being wrapped around her little finger," Jinx said. "I've been working with her, to make sure that everyone knows just how much pull Mrs. R. has- that way, there's no potential threats to be made there. Trigon wouldn't hurt her. Angela's one of two people with assumed immunity."

"Who's the other?" Kori asked.

Jinx cut Rachel off. "Who do you think? Rachel darling, of course- but she's going to have a lovely bit of trouble when she turns down daddy dearest." She smiled impudently. "I'm making up for two solid months of keeping this a secret, Rachel- and I must say, they deserve to hear about your last bout with Trigon. You should have seen that one- I might have tapes, actually. The gym has a surveillance feed," she said thoughtfully. "I'll get Giz to get copies of tapes for me- then you can see Slade and Trigon in action. Trigon beats Slade, by however slim a margin, whenever they fight- but Trigon has come close to losing, even to an opponent who isn't Slade."

"Jinx-"

"Anyway," Jinx continued loudly, ignoring protests from Rachel, "she flipped him. That's the first time that anyone but Slade's ever thrown him- and that was yesterday, with her sore back. She's been practicing alone, but it's about time the team got together. So, since she's worked enough today- I think we should all get caught up and order pizza in."

"You flipped him?" Richard asked. "How?"

Rachel knew what she meant. She didn't have time to list off the theories and disciplines behind the move before Kori wanted to know if she could learn the throw, and Gar asked if she had meant that her father made a mess of the kitchen, and Victor wanted to know just how many times she had bailed on them because of family obligations…

Jinx slipped out to buy the pizza. The Titans would have at least twenty minutes to talk, and the interruption of dinner wouldn't hurt. She glanced back down the stairs- Victor was safely listening to the discussion. She smiled, going out the door with a set of keys in her hand. Victor didn't know that she was borrowing his car, but he had nodded when she volunteered to bring dinner back. He hadn't nodded when she had slipped the keys from his pocket- but he hadn't given any reaction to that. She was curious, that was all- if that car was the big contender for Victor's attention, she wanted to meet the lady.

Eighteen minutes later, a very cheerful Jinx re-entered the basement with three large pizzas. She savored the look on Victor's face when she dropped her keys into his pocket after leaving the food on the table- even more so when Rachel blanched.

"You drove the T-Car?" Rachel asked, aghast.

"I guess she did," Victor said. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"I like the other lady in your life, Stone," Jinx said. "She handles like a dream, especially on the turns."

"You let Jinx drive your car."

"What's wrong with that, Rachel?"

"Maybe the fact that not even Seymour, voted the nicest guy in the HIVE three years in a row, lets her borrow the jalopy he drives for violent assignments," Rachel said.

"Now, that's not true- I borrowed his sedan, remember?"

"Borrowed, sure- and returned it even more dented," Rachel said.

"Well, it doesn't matter- I didn't as much as scratch the car's paint," Jinx said, ending the matter. "Besides- don't you want to tell the nice people about Mallah? Rouge submitted final details to Trigon- she doesn't want to work with you, after last time. Trigon handed paperwork over to me, so I have the whole plot." Jinx set a sheaf of papers on the desk. "Tia met me at the pizza joint. We have names, addresses, dates, times- all that jazz."

Rachel glanced through the summary- the names would be explained in the brief paragraph. "There just might be a loophole," she said, glancing in the back for the section of predicted risks. "I think that's it," Rachel said, pointing.

"What is it?" Richard asked.

"It's what isn't there, right?" Jinx asked, glancing at the section. "Rachel, I think you've got him."

"You could explain this any day, Rachel," Gar said patiently. "Some people have no idea what you're talking about."

She nodded, still looking for a few details as she read through code. "This kind of coding isn't too difficult to read, once you know the format. This section here with the asterisks means that we're dealing with minors, and the name over here refers to the person Rouge hates that she can get her hands on."

"Wally West," Jinx said. "She tracked him down- and the fact that a W.W. sent me a package wasn't even what got him. She's had surveillance for a long time, on him- Rouge can't touch Rachel or any employees."

"Is he in Forston?" Kori asked.

"No, but his guardian's sister's children are," Rachel said grimly. "By Friday, Mallah will be ready- and we'll be waiting."

"Wait a second- run that by me again?" Richard liked understanding details.

"A guy by the name of Jay Garrick helped West lay low. Garrick's sister lives in Forston, married to a guy by the name of Max Mercury. Mercury has three kids- Melvin, Timmy, and a baby. The infant's name isn't on the info sheet- just that the little guy's teething," Rachel said, pointing to the important sections. "We're going to be there when Mallah shows up. His only backup will be Brain- this is a snatch-and-go operation."

"What do you wish for us to do?" Starfire asked, already thinking of the fight.

"You guys can be in costume and ready to make a run," Rachel said. "You can meet me there- I'll make sure the parents are safely out of the way, and that the kids will work with you."

"What are you up to, Rae?" Gar asked.

"Not much," she said nonchalantly, reaching for a box of pizza. They might as well discuss details over a meal. "I'll just line up a babysitting job Friday night, that's all- Mercury's a professor at the local university, and his wife's also faculty. I know that he works with Oracle- with her as a reference, he just might approve a new babysitter."

"You? Babysitting?" Richard asked.

"Kids can't be that bad," Rachel said. "I deal with all of you every day, don't I?"

"Kids aren't completely foreign," Gar assured her. "We'll talk you through this- it's not like we'll have that much else to deal with."

"Okay, enough of the cute couple," Jinx said, rolling her eyes at the both of them. She could get away with stunts like that- Rachel understood just what she meant. "Council of war time, or whatever you guys do- I don't think I'm invited on a Titans-only mission, but I can help plan this."

"We need help?" Richard asked, just a little indignant.

"For this, bird-boy, you do," Jinx said, settling herself in a chair. "I'm the secretary around here, and I can quote all the applicable rules you need- because Rachel isn't expected to know the book, and I doubt you have access to Trigon's Codes- they have some silly pretentious name or other. Now, for this Friday, I can tell you how to approach so Brain won't take pot-shots at you."

"Okay, okay- we need you around," Victor said. Richard hadn't meant any offense, he knew, and someone had to smooth things over. "We have Rachel baby-sitting, four Titans moving around town, and gorilla-genes and the brainiac headed after a few little kids." He managed to get that far with a straight face. Then, Jinx and Gar started everyone else laughing.

"I do apologize, Rachel," Kori said finally, after a pizza and a half was gone. "But it is most humorous to think of you as a babysitter, with what you think of children."

"We'll see," Rachel said, still not sure about the idea and not about to let anyone else know. "Who knows- I might be good with kids." She glared when Richard cleared his throat, in what sounded like an attempt to cloak a laugh. That only started the others off again. She glowered at the empty pizza box as if it was offensive, and then considered the idea- Trigon's daughter, babysitting. Her lips curled into a smile, but she refused to laugh at _that. _Kids couldn't possibly be that bad.


	55. Hide

_Yes, this chapter does involve babysitting. Obviously, several parts were changed (Melvin's imaginary friend can't fight Mallah, they're not in the original setting, and there are no monasteries involved), but it is based on the show. Many thanks for dr.evil99, who helped with the second section- his help is the only reason this chapter was not delayed a week, because that scene was a bugger to write. _

**Chapter Fifty-Five: Hide**  
Rachel cautiously peered into the dark bedroom. Five minutes ago, the two occupants had stopped claiming to be asleep. The logic of seven and four year olds didn't at all resemble sense to her. If "We're asleep" was still a response, following by giggling, it was obvious that there was more amusement than sleeping going on. It had taken her twenty minutes to coax the children into going to bed. In that time, Melvin had managed to snarl her hair after trying to brush it herself, Teether (Rachel never had remembered to ask Mercury the kid's name) had upset his bottle on Timmy's blanket while Rachel was brushing out Melvin's hair, and Timmy had thrown one of the tantrums his father had warned her about.

The tantrum was the last of her worries. Timmy had turned an impressive maroon in the face before he realized that she was content to watch him hold his breath- she had heard that the kid was a screamer. He finally gave up Plan A and gulped in a large mouthful of air, preparing to let out a proper yell.

Rachel had asked Melvin to wait for a cue. Melvin, with her hair brushed and a few compliments paid, was very happy to go along with the suggested plan. Rachel held up three fingers, then two, then one-

Within a minute of two people screaming at him, Timmy stopped.

"There," Rachel said when everyone had finished. "That wasn't so hard. Timmy, come with me- we'll wash off your blanket and put it through the dryer, so it'll be warm for you." Laundering instructions for the blanket had been a part of the standard babysitter's lecture. Snacks are in the fridge, bedtime at 8:30, approved shows are on the list by the television, emergency numbers by the kitchen phone, this is how you may need to wash Timmy's blanket, we'll be home by eleven.

The sounds of even breathing convinced her that the two were finally asleep. Teether was contentedly drooling on the cloth she had put over her shoulder- Gar had warned her about that much. She had only needed to call twice, about various crises. She considered that an accomplishment. She might not be the best babysitter, or one that kids would like, but they watched their movie, had dinner, and did get to bed a few minutes late.

Teether gurgled. She regarded him suspiciously. He undoubtedly thought he was going to get her to speak in "baby-talk." She didn't think so. Someone had to talk sensibly to babies. "Okay, little man, bedtime."

At least he didn't protest- he just watched her as if she might do something worth watching at any moment. He made only a little fuss when she put him next door in the nursery. Timmy and Melvin were young enough to share a room- at the moment, it made everyone's lives easier. For Melvin's eighth birthday, she'd get her own room. Teether made a few more baby-sounds that she supposed were cute enough. He might be more worthy of adoration if he'd keep his spit in his mouth.

"Rachel, Babs in," Barbara said quietly, and very cheerfully.

"It's okay, Oracle- the kids are asleep, finally. There's no sign of anything out of place."

"There will be. The big black sedan- extra-large model- is heading down to your area. Be ready. He's not going for stealth, and Jinx showed me their recon. They know the babysitter goes to Forston High, and plan to leave her alive. The feminine pronoun's an assumption- high school girls are more like to sit."

"I hope to surprise them," Rachel said grimly. "Are the Titans on their way?"

"They were- they paused at a corner. Last I heard, Robin was breaking up the mugging. Light was the perpetrator- that ridiculous man that you sent to jail last time. He plea-bargained, and I didn't have time to protest. The judge knows that he's in crime- but he's relatively harmless."

"Last you heard?" Rachel didn't like the sound of that.

"There were a few more people involved. Police are- just a second, police are heading there. Starfire and Cyborg made the sighting- we have a confirmed drug lord cornered in the area, without a firearm. It's a trust deal, and he cleared scanners for both metals and density readers."

"How bad is the fight?"

"The Titans are doing fine- Robin's bruised himself up again, but he's still going. I'm afraid they'll be late, though- they're needed there. Can you take Mallah by yourself?"

"And talk down Brain?" Rachel asked.

"Brain's not going to go onto the actual scene- Jinx made a few derogatory comments about their mission and how easy it would be for Brain to go down. She knows that's against the original idea, but you don't have backup. Brain will be in constant contact, but not on the scene," Oracle said. "Where are you?"

"I'm near the kids' rooms. The hallways are narrow, so I can move easily but Mallah will be slowed down. It's a risk, staying this close- but this way I can know where they are."

"Good- I'll be in touch, Raven. If you need help, call me- I'll try pulling a few strings with university police."

"I'm not in uniform, Oracle."

"You're a babysitter with knowledge of fighting, then- it's better to be suspected as Raven than to lose these kids."

"I know."

"You're a strong girl, Raven- see if you can give that lout a run for his job without backup for a little. Oracle out."

Raven pressed a few more buttons- she just might want speakerphone. "Raven to Beast Boy- Mallah's en route."

"Sorry, Rae- we thought this was a five-second deal, but it's that ring that Oracle's been tracking for months."

"That's important, too," she said. "I just have Mallah to deal with- Brain's staying with the vehicle. When you guys come, be careful of the big black car. Brain might not be much of a physical fighter, but he's the shooter my mom isn't."

"You'll be okay?"

"I'll be fine- talk to you later, okay?"

"I'll make sure of it," he said.

"Raven out."

She checked on her two sleepers one last time. Timmy was gone from the world, contentedly snuggled with his blanket. Melvin, on the other hand-

"Melvin, I thought we agreed that it was time for you to be asleep."

"Not awake," she mumbled.

"If you're chatting with me, you're awake- and I saw you close your eyes. The big baby blues really catch the light, Mel. If you're not going to be asleep, will you at least stay in your room?"

"Why?" Melvin asked. "Sometimes, a drink of water helps me sleep, and daddy and mommy say that's okay."

"It might get a little noisy for awhile," Rachel said carefully. "Someone's going to come over. Your daddy knows all about this, and he agreed that I should be the only person to talk to the guest. I'll make sure he leaves quickly, and if you're still awake, I'll bring you a glass of water."

Rachel closed the door carefully after extracting an agreement from Melvin that she could wait to get a glass of water. It would happen any minute. Rachel adjusted her glasses. To halt recognition for a brief moment, and to try surprising Mallah, she had borrowed a pair of thick-framed glasses. Kori had made a neat knot of Rachel's hair (apparently, when hair was dressed into a knot at the nape of the neck, that was fine- all Rachel cared about was that it wouldn't be easy to grab), and the lighting in the hallway was dim.

A floor below, the door crashed in with a single firm kick. Mallah wasn't going for surprise, then- he hoped she would be afraid by the time he reached her. He was expecting a blue-stocking babysitter, presumably- Mercury was known for interviewing accepted university students. Thinking for a hard minute, Rachel left the bedroom door open just a crack- she wanted to make sure that she could check on the kids. Their room had a door, to the rear, that adjoined to what would be the nanny's suite. As it was, the suite was used as a toy room.

Mallah moved slowly up the stairs, making quite a bit more racket than necessary. Rachel didn't brace herself; that would help nothing. Instead, she relaxed, concentrating on her breathing and waiting for him to make his way down the hallway.

"Step aside now, and I won't hurt you," Mallah rumbled.

Rachel glanced at him- he had to hunch slightly, in the hallway, but he still was fast. He wasn't in Slade's class of fighting- but even when she landed a hit on Mallah, it didn't mean much. Return strikes were another matter. Mallah swung to hit- and Rachel knew very well that he could do some damage.

"No, thank you," she said, and she went in swinging.

She watched his arms, ducking punches and dodging blows while trying to get close enough to incapacitate him. If only she had Starfire or Robin around with a pole arm- but she was alone, on this one. She ducked again, landed a high kick to his shoulder blade, dodged a blunt pair of jabs, and realized something a second too late. Mallah hadn't been using his legs at all- and she hadn't been watching to predict that kick.

She was airborne to the worst possible place. The door did give easily when she hit it- but that meant she tumbled into the kids' room. Of all places- she couldn't even fight one opponent. Why had the Titans ever thought she could do this? She couldn't even see straight to know which way was up.

"You leave her alone!" a voice demanded shrilly. "Rachel's nice, and even if she wasn't, you shouldn't hit people." Melvin spoke with the certain disapproval of a child who knew the rules.

"Nice?" Mallah gave the girl a fairly incredulous look. "Well, nice or not, I-"

That was when Timmy started shrieking. Loudly. Rachel, after hearing his sister in one ear and him in the other, was unmoved. She took the time to move to her feet, quickly, deciding to find her mistakes later. She moved forward, distantly pleased that Melvin and Timmy stayed behind her. She was very pleased when she heard the door behind her click open, then shut.

"I'll still get them," Mallah said. "One way or another. If you continue to fight, I just might have to leave a carcass."

"I doubt it," Rachel said, blood racing. She had come close to losing already- he already had the upper hand. Without any further dialogue, they fought. This time, she kept her watch on both arms and legs.

After what must have been minutes of fighting, with bruises landed on both sides, she saw something useful- he tensed up muscles slightly before each move. It was subtle enough that she hadn't caught it at first, but it was there. She moved just out of his range- this time, he would have to move to hit her. There was more of a chance that he could land a blow, but she had many more chances to move. After several parries and sidesteps, she found her chance and had the footing for her favorite throw. She couldn't send someone of Mallah's size far, but she could flip him and land a solid kick to the head.

Rachel observed a sudden rain of missiles as he lumbered to his feet. Timmy was getting several good hits, but Melvin always hit her target with her projectiles. Rachel saw two plush cats, four teddy bears, and a winged white horse complete with gold hooves. Of all things to throw- but maybe that would be enough to give her an advantage. She moved forward, into his guard, and pivoted to deliver a kick-

When he grabbed her ankle. Of all the stupid tricks to fall for, she had let him grab her, and no amount of flailing or kicking would stop him from getting up. Unless- Rachel twisted in midair, driving her foot straight at his nose. Mallah ducked away- and loosened his grip for a fraction of a second. Rachel rolled away, covered by another lobbed toy. She kicked a few items back at the connecting room. Mallah wouldn't be able to use them as weapons, but it was better to have a clear floor.

"Where did you learn that? Baby-sitting courses don't cover moves like you just pulled."

It really wasn't fair, that Mallah was fast, strong, and huge. Rachel kept back- _let him approach, _she reminded herself.

Her hair had worked itself loose from Kori's elaborately created bun. Rachel had vetoed bobby pins- it was better to lose the style than to hurt herself by hitting her head wrong. Standing with her hair two-thirds loose, glasses lost in one of many rolls, and with a habitual frown on her lips- even the weak glow of a timid nightlight was enough to show a few identifying features.

"Miss Roth, do you really thing I won't touch you because you're Trigon's brat?" Mallah's voice was a low growl, hiding any possible surprise at who she was. "Rouge ordered this done, no matter what the costs."

"Rouge didn't submit proper paperwork to me, and I wanted to see you in action," Rachel said facetiously. "My father isn't very attached to me- but he does like the idea of me as his partner. I think we can find an arrangement."

"What's that?" Mallah asked.

"I don't write you or Brain up. You both leave. Trigon will be waiting for you to get a full report- Rouge turned her reports in to an undersecretary on the second basement level. By Trigon's orders, she turns those in to me. This is nothing personal, even if Madame Rouge does happen to be using my father's resources to pursue a personal vendetta. An APB for a small-time snitch with no important information? He's not even class-D."

"Rouge is going down?"

"She just might be, soon," Rachel said. "She'll go faster if this goes through- you can be sure of that. I'm enforcing my position, Mallah. If you try to undermine me by taking those kids, then life will become very uncomfortable."

"You'll order someone to get me? Who do you have? Slade only reports to your father."

"Batman," Rachel said, pulling out the one name that only Trigon and Slade weren't wary of. Batman tended to patrol more in the region closer to Steel City, a slum town founded next to a ghost factory with an infamously crooked police force, but he was known to make special errands in Forston.

"You won't do it yourself?"

"If I've learned one thing in starting a takeover, it's delegation," she said. "If I set aside the time it would take to win a battle and sufficiently thrash you, I'd fall behind. So, however satisfying it may sound- let's settle this the civilized way, shall we? You tattle on your boss, I don't send a bully after you."

Rachel thought she saw a smile, but it could have been Mallah's shift in footing. Even with the nightlight, he was a shadow. "If Rouge falls and I fall with her- I will blame you, Miss Roth."

"If Rouge falls and you're not interested in following her, you and Brain know where to find me, monsieur," she returned, just as coolly. Mercury already knew about her ties- he had passed a few tips to the police from the inside of the gang. He knew who she was and continued to work for Barbara. The underworld thought he had a cocaine addiction. Mercury passed the stuff straight to Oracle, who could test just what was coming into her city. If his kids talked, he could persuade them that it was all a story.

"A pleasure, Miss Roth."

"The pleasure was mine, _monsieur- _Trigon will be waiting for you." Rachel watched as Mallah left, only moving to look out the window when he was down the stairs. Mallah got into the car without a pause, exchanged a few words with Brain, and then the car left.

Melvin peered from inside the adjoining room, eyes wide. "Rachel? Is our guest all gone now?"

"He's gone, Melvin," Rachel promised. "Now, let's keep that a secret, okay? Do you know about secrets?"

"Yes. Secrets are like the white- like what daddy has," Timmy said solemnly.

"Like the black stuff, too," Melvin said, quickly correcting her brother's small slip. Her dad had said to not talk about the bags of white powder.

"Good. It was clever of you, to throw things- would you please put those away while I make a phone call?" Rachel asked. She hated to ask that, when they had helped her- but she needed to call her father, and they didn't need to hear that. She made the brief call from the babe's room, about how she had found Rouge again practicing active subversion. Her father was pleased, as she expected, that she had emphasized the matter to Mallah. Rachel was tired by the time she hung up the phone, but she still had two awake charges.

She helped put away the last stuffed animals, accepting direction from Melvin in what went where. Timmy needed only reassurance that Rachel would keep watch to go back to sleep, but Melvin insisted that she wanted to color a picture first- so she would feel better. Remembering the fight that had interrupted attempts to sleep, Rachel agreed. The next day was a Saturday- a little sleeping in wouldn't be amiss. The kids might not like her or want her to come back (and hadn't wanted that even before Mallah's intrusion), but they were alive and unharmed. A little therapy would be covered by Mercury's salary.

Melvin provided Rachel with two pieces of paper, "for later." Rachel humored the request- the laboriously printed note and whatever picture was beneath it could wait for later. Melvin agreed the papers could be folded- Rachel carefully did so, and put it away in her pocket. Melvin watched solemnly before gathering the winged horse and a ridiculously oversized teddy bear she called Bobby.

That was when the cavalry arrived: the parents were home. Mercury wasn't very surprised to see a broken door, but he did move very quickly up the stairs.

"They're fine," Rachel called, so he would know that much faster. "Mallah showed up. He works under Trigon, but he will not complete his assignment. The children will not be in danger again," she said.

"Again?"

Rachel had underestimated Mrs. Mercury. Her eyes flashed. "It was under control, ma'am," she said. "Oracle helped me out, and the Titans promised to come back me up if there was any sort of trouble."

"I'll explain in a minute, Samantha."

Mrs. Samantha Mercury glared at her husband regally. "See that you do. Until then, you can go check on the children." She waited for him to go before giving the babysitter an appraising look. "I'll ask him about all the other business later, but if you wouldn't mind providing a few details…."

"Of course," Rachel said.

"Does this have anything to do with his… habits, of helping Oracle?"

"No," Rachel said honestly. "It's your brother's ward, Mrs. Mercury. Mr. Garrick took in someone who was in trouble with someone working under Trigon, and it's a good thing- Madame Rouge is what criminals tend to call nuts. People on the right side of the law think in stronger terms."

"My brother- I should have known. He was Max's friend to begin with, so that just might explain something about why I ever met that husband of mine. Why did Trigon want my children?"

"He wanted to trade for Wally."

"Is that the kid's name- I met my brother's ward just last week. I don't think the young man would sit still super-glued to a chair while wearing a straightjacket. In any case, Miss Roth, I am very grateful that you kept all under control. Doors are easy to replace, but I am rather fond of the children." Her tone was light, but the look that passed through the bedroom door was not.

"It was my pleasure, Mrs. Mercury."

"Please, Samantha- you'll be as bad as the students. Dr. Mercury this and that- and don't blush like that, it's a perfectly natural assumption to say 'Mrs.' I'm dean of the Honors College at Bell University- and I am fairly sure I recognize your name from next year's undecided students."

"You probably do," Rachel admitted.

"You have until May 1st to decide. What are the factors in your decision?"

"I never really thought about going into college. The family business has been a tradition for a long time."

"Tell your family that you can do much better for the business with a proper degree. Even if you want to go into business- take a few years for yourself. I do expect to see you enrolled, Miss Roth. I can take some very serious measures, when I believe a student should attend some institute of higher learning."

"Dr. Mercury-"

"Samantha," she interrupted firmly, pressing an envelope into Rachel's hands. "I am perfectly willing to follow a potential candidate to the hospital, if I must. Just yesterday, I buttonholed a promising student who still had a few doubts about college. As if he couldn't find scholarships- just five words are enough to get him a sympathy vote. Not pity- sympathy."

Rachel had a pretty good guess, based on a few comments. "Let me guess- 'orphaned foster child with cancer?'"

"Yes, that was him- you know Garfield Logan?"

"He's my boyfriend." She couldn't remember saying that to anyone- she liked the sound of that, as juvenile as she had once assumed such terms.

"All the more reason to come to Bell," Samantha said.

"Sam, let the lady take her leave- Oracle just mentioned that her ride's here. She checked in, to make sure that Rachel was okay. Melvin was awake, but she always is- she won't really go to sleep until Samantha or I tuck her in. If you wouldn't mind, could we keep your number?" Mercury asked. "The kids would love to have you back- if they weren't too bad, that is."

"No, the kids were great," Rachel said. Melvin was charitable, or Mercury was kind. "Good night."

It was quite possibly one of the most normal experiences she had ever had. She was sure that other teenagers had ended evenings the same way. Of course, most people would not have Mallah to contend with- but she had accepted a night's pay, and had a ride home.

"Okay, this is weird," she said, taking a seat in the back. She was the only civilian among four Titans. "Thanks for the ride- but it's just odd, being the normal one around here."

"We're close to your usual corner- are you done for the night?" Victor asked.

"I'm done," Rachel said. "Those kids are just about as bad as fighting Mallah."

"He did show up, then," Gar said. "You're alright, Rae?"

"I'll be fine," she said shortly. "I just need rest," she continued, much more gently. She hadn't meant to be curt. It wasn't his fault.

"Here we are, Rachel." Victor still was surprised to hear her called 'Rae' without a hint of dissent- but didn't press Gar's luck. It was about time Rae eased up a little.

"Thank you," she said. "This is fairly close to my house- but I really don't think you want to pull up to Trigon's. Gizmo is a decent guy- but he doesn't like you much. He'll leave you alone, but he just might send someone out to key your car. That's if security doesn't shoot at you, of course." She tried to stay offhand, but she was serious.

"Tell the puny geek that if he wants to mess with the T-Car, he'll mess with me first- and I'll take down his computer servers when I win," Victor said.

Rachel smiled, however wanly- she still had her father to deal with, so that meant at least two cups of the caffeine-heavy variety of tea. She wouldn't be sleeping for awhile, but at least there was no school the next day. "Good night."

"Good night." She was gone before Gar could wonder if she wanted to say a separate goodnight to him. He waited until Victor pulled away to make his observation. "Is it just me, or is she out of it? That's not her tired act."

"She's more than tired," Richard agreed. "We've all seen her worn out. That was- I don't know, actually."

"Whatever happened in that fight, someone will just have to ask Rachel about details. Something bothered her," Kori said.

"And we all know that you would anyway, Gar," Victor said. "We're just interested, too."

"I'll have to wait until she leaves her house," Gar said.

"That might not be long." Victor wasn't sure, but he had a guess. "Talk to Jinx- she'll help you out. She would even if it wasn't about Rachel. You might have to go find her, but she probably needs to talk- she only gets like this when she has something to say."

"I'll talk to her," Gar promised when Victor stopped by his house. "And I'll talk to everyone else tomorrow."

**.Seek. **  
"I come to this park to bird-watch, once in a while- I never knew the prettiest bird came out at night."

"That is the cheesiest line I've heard from you in weeks- which is saying something- and it's at least half past one in the morning. Is that all you needed to say?" She didn't move. She was as comfortable as she could be, leaning against the base of a huge oak tree. Jinx had recommended the spot- and had probably sold her out.

"I know you're not lactose intolerant, Rachel- and you haven't been this moody and mopey in awhile. That's something, too. Is anything wrong?"

"I told Jinx I needed to think- she decided to send you over, I bet. I should have guessed that she would tell. You could go home now, Gar."

He ignored her suggestion. "Isn't it nice, to have friends who worry about you enough that they form conspiracies all about you?" He couldn't help a small smirk as he sat next to her, back against the trunk of the massive oak tree. He wasn't going to get too close, not until she was ready.

He wasn't going to leave her alone. Convincing him to leave would take entirely too much effort. "Yeah. It's great." She wouldn't make him leave, but she would make it clear she was in no mood for conversation.

She knew that he was looking at her, even when she (stubbornly) kept her head tilted back and away, presumably to study stars obscured by thick smog-ridden clouds. "You must really be out of it- I can't goad you into anything witty. I'll take a page from your book, then- the direct approach. What's wrong?"

"Rouge has next to no power- she couldn't go after West if she wanted to, after the dressing down she'll get. She'd target me first; I can take care of myself. The kids are safe. Involving kids is just extra complications, after all- not to mention that the justifying paperwork is very complex. My father actually congratulated me for 'finding evidence of subversion,' to quote him." There- all sorts of facts, and not one real hint about what was bothering her.

"That's all good- or at least it sounds good to me, and Jinx was only worried about you, so I think that the whole Trigon front's okay. Rouge is on thin ice; your dad's not harassing you. Why the mood?"

"Am I really that transparent?"

"Only to people who care enough." He tried a reassuring smile. Since she still wasn't looking at him, it probably wouldn't be very effective.

"If I hadn't talked Mallah down, just because of what I can do- I wouldn't have been able to fight him off, Gar."

"Mallah is way too fast for his size- he's a hard fight. The important part is that you did talk him down. It's better to stop a fight than win it- would you really want an unconscious guy his size around? What's really wrong?"

"It was too easy." She wasn't ready for this- couldn't he have waited for the morning to hold this talk? By then, she might know what she meant.

"You think you could end up like your dad." It was a guess, a complete and total guess- but he had the reaction he wanted. She stiffened up a little. He knew what the problem was, at least- now he just had to figure out why that was a problem. He knew better than to try touching her. "I think you're wrong. If it was that easy, would you be out here trying to think about all this? This isn't easy stuff, Rae."

"What if I could do better, staying with this? I could save people, more people- but I'm making plans of my own to do something else."

"Rae, it's natural to want to leave- it has to be hard. But- don't you think that Richard misses his dad, or Victor misses his brother and his leg? Kori's only given hints of just what happened, why she's so strong- and I know I miss my parents. But, if you-"

"Forget it," she interrupted, before she felt any stupider. Everyone had their problems, and he'd picked two people who never seemed to need to mope. Except- maybe she still should explain. "You don't understand what I'm talking about, and I- don't know how to explain. My father has been- changing, for the better. Oracle's noticed. Casualties are down, the entire crime rates are more controlled, and most of what he's importing through the coast isn't quite as illicit. I know that my birthday's going to be a bad day, Gar. He's been saying this for too long- when I come of age, half of all is mine, all of it is shared. Imagine- imagine the end of the world was coming, all on your shoulders. That's what it feels like, sometimes."

For all her impassioned speech, she hadn't moved away. "I don't know what you mean, Rae, and that's the problem. I'll still try, though, even if I don't quite understand just what it is that you're going through." He looked at her, leaning to see her face- she looked miles away, as if she was seeing something else in the stars past the growing leaves of the oak tree. "I'll always be here for you."

She didn't have time to feel comforted, to let herself consider just what he promised so easily. "What if I've been wrong? What if, for all my life, I've been off the mark on this?"

"You think you should join the family business?"

"What if I don't pull out? I can't change all of it- but I could make a difference. Besides, no matter how I look at it- when I leave, my father will come after me, unless- and I couldn't do that. Even if I did, if I could make sure that he would never do that or anything else again- Slade would take over and be even worse. I could make this better."

"I know that's all true, Rae- but is that the person you want to be? Living like that- it'd change you, Rae. What if you forgot all your best intentions? Your dad might have started out like you are now. I can't picture your mom falling for- Trigon."

"He was bad in the beginning. She went for the rebel, something against her dad. Her father- my grandpa Roth, who disowned her a while ago- owned the concession stand she was working at. I don't know what's right anymore, but I can't let my 'birthday present' happen. I don't have the details- but it's bad, and set for the day after I turn eighteen."

She finally had looked at him- now, she wasn't looking away. He had to make this count. "I can't tell you what the right thing is- I'm not sure, looking at all of this. But- don't think about anyone else. I don't want you to think about the town, gangs Titans- not even me. Just think about yourself for a little. If it'll make you happy, it's good for you. Do that and I'll support you, no matter what."

"I can't do that, Gar- you know that. If I forgot everyone else- I can't, and I won't. You should know that. You have to, Gar- I'm careful for good reason." She knew that she was in an impossible mood- she was angry with herself, so everyone else would have to deal with her temper. She knew what she could do. She could have ordered Rouge 'taken care of.' She hadn't. She had been aghast at the idea, and had seen a line she wouldn't cross- but what about less drastic decisions?

"Rae, I'm not afraid. We're in this together, and I trust you completely. If you don't trust yourself- we're in a circle with a pretty big gap. You trust me, I trust you. I can trust myself because you do- I know you hate pep talks, but I'm serious. If you can't trust yourself- how are you going to decide something like this? It's all you, Rae.

"I don't know how to do this anymore," she said. Her voice almost caught in her throat- but she found a little strength. "You keep trying, but I just- it's against everything else, Gar. I can't trust myself. I keep thinking that, if I go a little too far- it's hard enough trusting other people."

"I know, but you can do it. Remember back in August? I bet you didn't trust anyone, then. Now- it's easier, right? You can keep learning, Rae, and I won't stop trying. You're worth it, and I'll say that over and over, as many times as you need."

She couldn't use any of her usual defenses. She knew he wasn't lying. "I'll try, then- and I'll find a way to end all this mess." He thought she could- he was sure that she could, and that made all the difference. "I might have to keep a few secrets, but it's not because I don't trust you. It's just- you've heard enough about all this. Jinx and I made the decision. It's just between two people for the main details."

"I can accept that. I trust you."

"So- we're leaving it to me to lighten the mood," she said. "I'm still thinking about this, but I think I can do this."

"You know you can," he said.

"No, I _think _I can," she said. "That's progress enough for now."

"So, if you're lightening the mood, what do I do?"

"You tell me," she challenged.

"Hm- I'm not so good at the looking beautiful part, and I don't understand most of your literary allusions, so that leaves me… um…"

She rolled her eyes. "Flatterer- just as bad as Victor, the way Jinx tells it."

"You and Jinx talk about me and Vic?"

"No comment- Kori and Jinx promised confidentiality, and I extend the same consideration."

"Wait a second- all three of you?" he asked. "That's dangerous, Rae- really dangerous."

"I know, but guys have their chances. Is it our fault you squander the time with video games?"

"Squander? I'll have you know, video games are…" He wasn't completely paying attention to what he was saying, but that was okay. They were just playing around, working to get back to what was comfortable. She had opened up, though- they had been together for less than twelve hours short of two weeks (so he kept track), and he still was- he didn't know the word to describe just how amazing the thought was.

She was with him, she wasn't going anywhere, and if they paused before heading into a twenty-four-hour ice cream place… she didn't mind getting closer, to him. He kept his arm around her, when they went inside, and glared when someone looked at her a little too long. She rolled her eyes, of course, and poked at him with an elbow- but she didn't mind. He was glad to feel that he could protect her from someone- because when it came down to whatever was going on with her father, he couldn't do much. That was her dragon to slay- he'd just have to make sure that she had a sharp sword and solid armor. He trusted her completely- but he was going to watch out for her, if she wouldn't do as much for herself.


	56. Changing Room

_The beginning portion of this chapter contains dialogue in Spanish. The first phrase is informal Spanish. Some is translated later, some is not. If you're curious and have the time, look up a free translation site. The important part of that scene isn't the language. One portion of this chapter was helped very, very much by a friend of mine I've known for twelve years- thank you for details and a few phrases. The reason for the delay in this chapter? I had a graduation party, started a full-time job (everyone, be nice to cashiers and fast food employees- it's not a very fun job), and made the grad parties circuit. This chapter has a little emphasis on a character that deserves some attention- and some characters won't make an appearance. They're mentioned, but not present. I don't own the Titans (just a reminder, in case anyone happened to forget), Swarovski crystals, Lewis Carroll's books, or Froot Loops. _

**Chapter Fifty-six: Changing Room**  
It was quiet, in that room. The walls had been built to precise specifications with the best of sound-proofing. The occasional purr or roar of a car moving down the street didn't reach through triple-paned windows. The hum of the refrigerator was imperceptible. The only sound besides breathing was the quiet hiss of the air conditioning, designed to not carry sound in or out.

The occupant of that room had insisted on those specifications. She cited her habit of blasting a stereo, which was an affectation designed to gain that room. The stereo never was loud enough to need such precautions. The dreamer sometimes was.

Strains of Rimsky-Korsakov resumed with a gentle click. They had paused for a visitor to listen to the shallow breathing patterns, but the nightmare was starting again and music just might help. _"Te quiero, mi hermana bonita. No preocupe."_

"_La luz es rosada," _the sleeper murmured. _"No me gusta rosada."_

"_No hay rosada. Miras, hermana."_

"_¿Korí?"_

"_Sí. Es Korí. Duermes. No te recuerde."_

"_¿Debo dormir?"_

"_Sí, Cáni." _Kori never had found a closer Spanish approximation for Connie's name.

"_¿Estás aquí?"_

"_Sí. Siempre que me necesitas."_ Kori meant it. Whenever her sister needed her, she would be there.

"_Te quiero, Korí."_

"_Sé."_ I know, that you love me. _"Duermes ahora, hermana. Duermes."_ Sleep now, sister. Sleep.

"It isn't your fault," Connie whispered. "It never was."

"I know," Kori said, adjusting her sister's blankets. Connie would remember none of this in the morning, and that was fine. She didn't need gratitude. She just needed to know that her sister still remembered what really had happened, so long ago- it didn't matter that Connie ignored her the next morning. Connie had paused, before leaving the house in a shining convertible in search of Kitten Moth, her perpetual friend. That was enough.

Kori was putting away dishes from breakfast when the phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. Why was Richard calling at this hour on a Sunday morning? "Hi, Richard- you're up early."

"I've been up for two hours- Tim called me before it was even light outside. The important part is- can you come over? Now?"

He sounded out of breath. Kori frowned. "I can come over, yes. Is there some special occasion?"

"That's why Tim called me. He's convinced himself that today's the day. March 23rd is the day that the two of them met, and he wants to do this."

"You mean that he is going to propose?"

"Yes, he's popping the question. Bruce can't help him much- he fled to the office, anyway. It's up to me and Selina to talk him up to doing this."

"I'll be over right away." Kori knew that both of them meant well, but both tended to make people more nervous when they tried to be comforting.

"Thank you, Kori."

"_De nada- _sorry, you're welcome, it was no trouble- Spanish phrase. I'll be right over."

Kori knew that the situation could be dangerous. Tim was a nice guy, but when the only comfort available was Bruce and Selina- well, it was a good thing she was heading over there. She had no delusions about her ability to cope with borderline neurotic people, but she tended to be less blunt than the other two.

She had planned, of course, to head straight for the basement- but she was ten feet from the door when a familiar car pulled into the driveway. She wasn't optimistic enough to hope that there were two drivers of black SUVs with a driver's seat wheelchair lift and an FPD bumper sticker who would visit Bruce. Well, she should have known- she had ventured to think that the day was complicated enough.

"Hi, Barbara."

"Kori, I hate to be short- but I need to talk to Bruce. I have it on very trustworthy authority that Batman's grounded tonight. He usually helps the police out with the Staten suburb, but we need that clear tonight. Tomorrow, he needs to be there. I just pulled a few tips from inside Trigon's network, and Rachel proved them clean."

Kori said the first thing that came to mind. "I wouldn't recommend going in there. I'm only here for Richard- once he comes out, we're going to plan something. He doesn't particularly want to be in there. It's a war zone."

"Explain," Barbara said.

For the first time, Barbara's most threatening Oracle voice was nothing to worry about. "Bruce and Selina are having a fight," Kori blurted. Lying was easy- just tell a story, and who cared if it was true? She was doing this to help Tim. "Grunt hiss and all that- the front hall might never be the same."

"Did you try getting them apart?" Barbara asked, moving no closer to the front porch's gentle slope of a ramp. Bruce and Selina- well, that was some story.

"Richard thought about it, but Bruce and Selina were near their uniforms when it started. He doesn't know what caused it- but Selina has her whip and Bruce has projectiles." Kori eased into her story, and stopped wishing that Rachel was there to back her up. Barbara wouldn't mind, later. For now- Kori had to take care of business.

"So, it's World War III?" Barbara asked.

Kori nodded. Maybe her best strategy was just how silly her story sounded- Batman and Catwoman brawling. "Alfred looked almost flustered when the Vermeer fell, but Selina did save that."

"She always does pay more attention to artwork than the possibility of human damage. She probably won't kill Bruce, though. She's usually fond of him."

"I think he'll be safe eventually," Kori agreed. "I'll still wait for the all-clear though."

"The oddest part is how typical it sounds," Barbara said. "I think we can leave observations to Richard."

Kori didn't know how she had pulled _that _off. Now, she just needed to somehow warn Selina and Richard (and Tim) that the potential fiancée had arrived. She just needed-

"Richard, how is everything going in there?" Barbara asked.

Kori hugged him, if only to distract Barbara for just how confused Richard looked. Barbara obviously expected a full report. "I have been so worried- it was so brave, to attempt to break to pieces the altercation between Selina and Bruce." Maybe she was laying on the alternate way of talking a little heavily, but she needed a diversion.

To his credit, Richard paused only for a moment. "It's still pretty bad in there. I just came out to say that it's almost over. Alfred has a fairly clear path, and he hoped Kori could settle Selina down while he worked on Bruce."

"Is it bedlam in there?" Barbara asked.

"Completely," Richard said. "I'd recommend staying out here for a few minutes, until most of the blood's cleaned up."

"I'm here to speak with Bruce- Kori, will you ask Selina to leave him conscious for at least five minutes?"

"I'll see what I can do," Kori said. "Richard, stay out here and take a rest. That's enough of this- I think I'll just go knock a couple thick heads together and get this over with."

"No, I can't let you go in alone," Richard protested. Whatever Kori was doing, he wasn't about to go through an Oracle interrogation. He didn't know the details.

"Go on, be chivalrous," Barbara said. "I just want details later- I can wait."

"Thanks," Kori said as Richard dragged her inside while trying to be subtle about it.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"She showed up just as I did- I had to delay her. She seems to believe my story, but I'm not sure."

"She might be playing along- in any case, don't keep her waiting. It's a good thing you're here- it took Selina, Bruce, and Alfred to get Drake breathing normally. Selina dragged Bruce into it. I don't want to send Tim out there blind."

"Shall I?"

Richard smiled, imagining what her version of preparation would be. "Go ahead. You kept Babs out, you have some fun. I'll just watch," he said as they went down the stairs.

"Why is Richard smirking?" Tim asked.

"Don't worry about Richard; straighten your tie," Kori said briskly. "Wait, you have a death grip on the box- both hands for something that size? Never mind, don't worry, I'll take care of the tie. This is a nice suit, and it's only a bit wrinkled- going outside won't hurt it. I would assume you're up for a traditional proposal- yes? Good. Ready? Of course you are. Now, up the stairs- good, your shoes are tied, your tie is straight, and you have a steady death grip on the box- with one hand. Progress. Very nice, just put the other hand on the banister. Let's go, we have two more stairs, out the door, down the porch ramp, and then give the speech. What is your speech?" Kori asked, pausing long enough to let him answer.

"Will you marry me?" He couldn't remember the rest.

"Very nice," she said, patting him on the shoulder. "Now go ask Barbara. She's right outside, I'll explain everything as soon as you pop the question, and I hope you have a nice ring for her to show off." Kori smiled, patted him on the shoulder a final time, opened the door, and sent him outside. She took a spot at the picture window, trying to pretend she wasn't staring. Selina joined her. Alfred began dusting a vase conveniently close to the window. Richard looked through the small window on the other side of the door.

"Did you see the look on his face?" Richard asked quietly.

"I should have called her earlier," Selina said. "Kori, I don't know where you came up with that- but it worked."

"Probably the same place she found the idea that Barbara couldn't come inside because you and Bruce were fighting," Richard said.

"I needed some reason," Kori said. "Now, do we want to talk about that story, or watch the look on Barbara's face?"

"That's just what she wanted, too," Selina said, very pleased with the tableau. "The classic one-knee proposal, with the little velvet box- and my, my. Look at that diamond sparkle- she'll be the envy of all the force with something like that."

"She didn't keep him waiting long, either," Richard said. "I could see his lips moving- shocked silence for two seconds, big smile for another, and then I'm sure we all heard the yes," he said, rubbing his ear.

"It was rather emphatic," Selina agreed. "Bruce, come over and watch- oh. Never mind, this is when you'd start grumbling."

"Why?" Bruce asked, curiosity caught.

Kori laughed, quietly- it wouldn't do for those two to hear her. "She just pulled him by his tie to kiss him. I think they'll be done sometime soon."

"I don't," Selina said. "Is anyone else interested in lunch? The ring's on the correct finger, we saw the exciting bit, and those two might be at it for awhile."

Alfred had already discreetly left. Selina and Bruce followed, not so discreetly. Kori paused- the room was dim, and she was romance-drunk. She loved happy endings. Weddings and birthday parties and proposals- real things, all of them. "I think lunch can wait for awhile," she said, wandering downstairs with a clear destination in mind. Richard followed her, just as she'd hoped.

It was an old pastime, just as familiar as the couch she had added to her room. It had a sleeper bed, and Richard knew it. Just when Kori coaxed him to go just a little farther than usual, to not just act like he was in complete control- he stopped.

Kori knew a swirl of emotions, too many to feel at once- she knew what arguments he would make. They were moving too fast. The truth was, they weren't moving. At all. She didn't know the base game, as people in the country did, but he never wanted to move on. It wasn't stealing if she wanted to go a little farther, right? She broke into his familiar arguments, and knew just where he would go next.

"Richard, is it something about me?"

"Kori, I'm just not- it's too- I can't-" He couldn't tell her that. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Couldn't she be happy with how things were?

"Can't, or you won't?" she asked tartly. "I hope that you will clear your head soon, because I will give you the space. If you do not wish me close, I shall not be close."

"Why does everything have to keep changing?" he asked.

"Why must all stay the same?" she countered, suddenly aware their voices had risen.

He didn't care. "It's never good enough, is it?" he yelled.

"It is good!" She took a deep breath. She didn't have to yell. "Can it not be more than good? You cannot just- stay the same forever! People change a little, Richard. If I do, and if I learn to trust what I feel- then I have changed from before. That is not bad."

"And staying the same is?"

She refused to give into the feeling that she had to have the last word. She didn't care about the fight- she cared that he was implying something about her, in her eyes. "I will speak with you on another occasion. For now, I will find another place to spend my day." With that, she walked up the stairs. Storming upwards would have calmed her mood- but she looked back in time to see him close the door to his room with a short _click. _The last two steps were exhausting. She knew that they could resolve the little fight- but she needed time away.

"Kori, do you need to think about something else?" Selina asked, so nicely that it wasn't at all out of pity. "I know that this is the time of year when a high school senior girl's thoughts turn to prom. And, for the girl who managed to make my most irritating genius photographer behave- what do you say? You have your pick of dresses, altered to fit you if necessary."

"Thank you, but why?" Kori asked.

"Because he's like Bruce, and I receive an innate satisfaction from watching any man related to Batman drop his jaw and stare in wonder. Now, I heard most of that argument, and I'll just say you need to work on him. I think he has an overdeveloped sense of just what is moral- and that he really wouldn't like my version."

Kori could accept that. "May I ask one favor, then?"

"What's the favor?"

"May we bring Rachel along? I think I might need help in bullying her into a dress."

Selina smiled. "Our work's cut out for us, because she can be a lovely, beautiful, elegant stick firmly in the mud when she feels like it. We'll bring her- but she's still paying. I don't do favors for just anyone."

"She'll understand," Kori said.

Rachel did. Kori was having a bad day, something or other had happened with Richard (Selina whispered that she'd explain while Kori was in the fitting room), and Selina and Kori had decided to let her in on the feminine bonding. Rachel almost had dragged Jinx along- but Jinx had caught wind of the plan and made urgent arrangements with Victor. Kori had assured her that Jinx would have a wardrobe selected later. After that, Rachel gave into the inevitable.

Kori, of course, would take a few more visits to a shopper's dream store. There was no need to rush her choice. The back room of some fashion house or other had rows and rows of dresses protected in clear wrappings- except for one in opaque black.

"Why's that dress special?" Rachel asked, intrigued. Everything else was either boring or not getting near her. There was a limit to how much frippery she would allow to adorn her person. She had her standards. Besides- a dress like the dripping pale pink monstrosity to her left probably weighed twenty pounds.

Selina looked from the bag, to Rachel, and then back to the black wrapping. "No one else has been able to wear that thing- I didn't think, when I designed that gown. Most complexions are completely off- the in look, tanning-booth chic, is all wrong, and it's just overpowering on any complexion that's too dark. I should have dyed it, I guess, to some flattering shade- but it's a pet project of mine." She had lost her coffee supply while still drawing the thing. By the time she was cutting silk, she was running on fumes. Before the first stitch- no coffee, at all, and she couldn't recall the inspiration.

"May we see it?" Kori asked, intrigued. That was the only dress that they couldn't see, after all, and she wasn't above admitting to curiosity.

"Only if Rachel agrees to try it on," Selina bargained. "Kori, you know you're gorgeous- but this would make you look like an Oompa-Loompa in need of a bad dye job. Rachel, you don't have to like it. You just have to try it on."

"I can't see it first?" Rachel was wary by nature, but anyone would be nervous at the size of Selina's grin.

"No," Selina said.

"So, you're going to put me in a dress that Kori couldn't pull off," Rachel said, still not pleased with the idea. She hadn't even seen the cursed dress and she wanted to leave it to rot.

"Yes." Selina should have thought of Rachel. Rachel had a very different complexion- no hint of a tan, really, and more gray than white.

"Please, Rachel?" Kori said. She knew a little encouragement would get Rachel to cooperate.

"Maybe." Rachel trusted Kori. She had to, when the Titans were fighting. This, however, was lunacy. She wasn't about to trust Selina's mystery bag when Catwoman was out to play.

"Good enough." Selina knew that she would get nothing more definite. With an overly dramatic flair, she began to pull the zipper running across the opaque garment bag, following the diagonal top to bottom. First, she revealed a shoulder of the dress, a cap sleeve formed to stay just where arm and shoulder met. Kori already was running her eyes across the careful embroidery on silk. By the time Kori finished her examination of the sleeves, the rest of the dress was unveiled. Selina kept a theatrical sigh to herself. She and Kori just had different ideas of timing.

Kori examined the rest of the dress in a glance. Subtle designs, abstract patterns, a very elegant form, and- a long slit up the front of the left leg, to make sure the dress draped correctly. "This is a most interesting dress," she said, brushing a hand against the skirt. "It is formal, even in the relatively high neck- that only falls about one palm below the collarbone?"

"Approximately," Selina said, remembering the measurements she had made. She cross-referenced that with what she still had on file for Rachel- hm. Well, there was nothing wrong with pretending that she had decided on her intentions a long time ago. "Rachel, I'm going to get you in heels. If you're three and a half inches off the floor, it'll be perfect- and I guarantee that we'll have a few jaws pretty close to the floor, including one for your boyfriend."

"There is one problem," Rachel said, looking at the dress. It was pretty, certainly. The embroidery matched the silk exactly, so finding the beadwork was difficult- but there was a problem, with such a solid sheath. The smooth finish was unforgiving, and she couldn't remember ever having a slit pass her knee. Of course, she had worn one dress before. That one involved a floor-length skirt with a slight flare. This was an entirely different matter, and looked a little older than prom.

"What's that?" Selina asked, looking at Rachel. She knew what the dress looked like- she wanted to imagine it on her current model, and to figure out if any alterations should be made.

"I'm more likely to wear a princess-skirted monstrosity. That color and I do not get along."

"Why ever not?" Selina asked. "You don't need a slimming color- I have an idea how your extra time is spent, and it's not eating. Besides that, you push yourself in crazy like training- don't even try denying it, I'll just show you that I've had to change your uniform a little to accommodate a little muscle. You've worked out- as soon as it's summer, you are duty-bound to get yourself a nice swimsuit right after Gar recovers from you showing up to prom in that." Throughout the speech, Selina had taken the dress from the hanger, and held it out. She moved her hand, quickly, letting the ripple of fabric try to persuade an unconvinced customer. "Try it on, and I won't bother you about anything else all day. All week." Selina put all her hopes on the actual dress fitting up to her mental image.

"You're putting me in the changing room with that thing?" Rachel asked. "I'm not coming out with it on."

"Yes, you are," Selina said. "Consider it a condition."

"Go to the room of change," Kori said. "It will not take long, Rachel."

"Changing room, Kori," Rachel corrected. She didn't make a big deal out of it, Kori remembered for the next time.

"No, Rachel. There always is room for change, and in that room you may learn that something like this can fit you." Kori held the dress against Rachel. "Can you not see it yet?"

"I see a dress whose cost would probably feed a third-world country for two years, sold retail- I think the design on the bodice has bits of crystal in it." Rachel glared at the reflections on the changing room's door. Kori was undeterred, Selina was nonchalantly examining the section of the pattern.

"Swarovski, of course," Selina put in.

"Next time, I'm sending Jinx," Rachel muttered darkly, allowing Kori to drape the dress over a stand in the small room. Hadn't they heard of putting a clothes hanger hook on the wall? "And what are the heels doing in here?"

"Just slip them on- I'll find you a good pair later," Selina said. "Those are just so you can see how the dress looks when it's a proper length."

Rachel was alone in the changing room. With the dress. If those two were going to be completely idiotic about it, she'd just put it on, prove that the bridesmaid dress should see the light of stars again and make an appearance at another dance, and that she was right to avoid visible clothing of the impossible color.

She did manage to zip the dress herself. Kori had been right about the front- the dress started about a hand's width below the collarbone. There was one argument she couldn't make. The back, however, was lower than she desired. It left all of her shoulder blades (and then some) bare, and she knew that a few scars would show. Besides that- she looked in the single small mirror in the room.

That wasn't her. She stepped into the shoes- they were too big. She looked like she was trying on her mother's dress. Her mother's dress that had been worn to some sort of party- the dress looked like a formal gown modified for someone with a little more self-confidence. The message was completely wrong, and sitting down proved that thought. Part of the skirt fell away to the side, exposing far too much leg. She still had old scars, and a new mark from hitting a broken sign in a fall. She traced the mark, a long brown-red scab that was plain and practical. It didn't match the dress.

She moved her foot- that wouldn't do, for the shoes. She kicked the shoe off. Her foot collided with a stack of boxes. Braced against the wall, the boxes didn't topple over. She looked at the edges and found her size- she might as well wear shoes that fit, to get a little more away from the playing-dress-up look.

Newly heeled, she stood and took a small step forward. The shoes fit, but she wasn't at all sure about the dress. The skirt moved in a completely new way. Instead of staying nicely away from her legs, it moved a little too closely. She wasn't about to wear this in public, no matter when the scab healed. There would always be a new scar, and her too-thin hair hung limply over the sleeves. They looked close to falling completely from her shoulders- just one more detail that she shouldn't wear this thing in public, least of all to a dance sponsored by Forston High. That was just what she needed, another reason for people to whisper about her.

But, she didn't care. That was what she told Gar. The last two weeks had been- good. She wouldn't say anything other than good, because 'good' was a perfectly adequate description. It just wasn't at all as complimentary as the time period may have desired. She had told him, several times, that she didn't care what people whispered. He walked through the halls with her, when they had a close destination. She wasn't about to go around holding hands where anyone could see- he knew why. She wasn't a normal girl. He had known that from the beginning, and that was okay. So, in school, he was a friend. A friend with whom she became one of the hordes she detested who kissed leaning against lockers, but only when there was no one there to see. He knew why, and he told acquaintances from school that she was a friend. When pushed, he'd admit that he liked her, and say that he was taking it slow- real slow.

She always knew when he had heard. She had learned to ignore the sharp little barbs- or at least tell herself that she hadn't heard yet another hissed name. He hadn't, and he was overly protective. His fists would clench, his eyes would narrow, and she would smile before feigning exasperation. She had kept him from defending her, so far. But if she was to wear something like this, and look like she was desperately trying to catch eyes- that was what the dress said. She didn't need even more whispers.

"Rachel?"

She might as well show them, even if the girl in the bent mirror wasn't pleased with the idea. The mirror's curve elongated the area of exposed skin above the dress's neckline (that did not touch her neck at all) into something from a carnival mirror- a girl who didn't understand just what people knew about her, or thought they knew. The girl in the looking glass shifted with another step on heels, until the arm reaching for the doorknob was far too long for the room. She had gone through that looking glass with only a dress, and no white rabbits in sight.

Rachel stepped into the room, then moved forward a few more steps. Heels actually weren't that hard- the pair she had found had a long ellipse for the base of the heel, not a stiletto. So, she could walk. She could walk right back into that dressing room and reclaim her jeans, then-

"Rachel, I'm giving you that dress," Selina said.

"What?"

"You most certainly must wear it to the dance of prom," Kori said, already envisioning just what could be done with hair that wasn't flaccid from hot, dry weather. "It is very formal, so perhaps just a touch of makeup to draw color to the right places- and with your hair up, for the back."

"Not much jewelry," Selina said. "Maybe a bracelet, a very delicate necklace, and I could loan her a pair of post earrings- sometimes fake diamonds glitter better and cost more."

"I'm not wearing this- look at it!" Rachel said. "Half the time, my leg's just about sticking out of the dress, the back's too low, the straps are about to fall down, and it's not a good color."

Selina shook her head. "Your leg looks fine without being covered up by all that cloth- the scab actually adds a little more to the idea. I assume your problem with your back is your few scars, but what is the problem with showing those? If you hide those, then you are saying you have something to be ashamed of. Show scars proudly, and they will be a show of strength. The straps aren't going anywhere- it's the visual idea that makes them absolutely maddening to guys. They are comfortable- with all other complaints, you'd have mentioned that, and the things are made of silk. As for the color- step into that mirror, with three panels."

Rachel protested, but it was useless. Soon, she could see herself, front and two sides. She turned to the left and could see just what the back looked like- there was far more of her spine showing than necessary, as the dress seemed to reluctantly begin midway down her back. There was a reason she wore long sleeved t-shirts. They gave the right look. "I look silly," she finally protested, when it was clear that Kori and Selina weren't going to comment.

"You look beautiful," Selina said, gently. "Now, maybe you still don't believe that you can do this- and that's why you can't see this. You need to know you deserve to look like that, and then- you'll have the rest."

"If for nothing else, think of the poor Titan boys," Kori said with a smile bordering on a smirk. "I'll make sure you go first, so Richard can stare for a few seconds guilt-free. Then, Jinx and I can come out, and Victor will have reason to look away. Gar, however, will be staring for quite some time," she said, entirely too satisfied.

"You and Richard are okay, then?" Rachel asked.

"We fought, but we will be fine," Kori said. "I will think about it, tonight- what he said and what I said. Then, I will go to his house and we will talk. This was our first real fight, and it had to happen. He is very- stiff, I believe is the word, in his honor, and I learned to be much more open. We will have disagreements, but he does not yet see this. He will think that fighting is something bad, instead of natural. I know that it cannot wait over a sleep."

"You're way smarter than you let on," Rachel said. "Except about this dress- I doubt that Victor would ever stare, except to think that I look ridiculous. I've known him for most of my life- he's like a big brother to me. We're close, and have been closer this year, especially when we talk about Jinx- but I don't think so."

"Want to make a bet?" Selina asked. "Go ahead, take off the dress- but slip it on again, rinse, and repeat until you think you fit in it. Prom's a while away- you'll have time to figure out if this is right for you."

"Thanks," Rachel said. The two of them were conspiring- give her enough to think about so that she'll acquiesce to the dress business without too much fuss.

"It is our pleasure," Kori said. "Just think about what we have said- my part, too. You and Gar do not truly fight often, but both of you tend to blame yourselves. You can change past this, Rachel. You've come this far."

"Enough, Confucius," Rachel said. Selina could explain that bit of trivia- but Kori did speak Chinese, so maybe there wouldn't be a necessary explanation. "You can drop the dress in my room at Richard's place- it's not going to my house."

"I will, Rachel."

"Thanks, Kori."

That should have been the end of it. Rachel had helped Kori in the unsuccessful search for The Dress, thanked Selina (more out of common courtesy than actual gratitude), and then gone home (Kori had driven, which was exciting in the way that some unpleasant things are- Rachel wasn't so sure that Kori had never visited Italy, based on a few turns). Once there- she hadn't been able to stop thinking.

What if she could change, until she was saying one thing and meaning another? If she played her cards just right- it could work. She just might be able to pull off something of that magnitude- more than wearing a slit-skirted dress without looking desperate. She spent a few nocturnal hours turning an idea around and around in her mind, then made two phone calls. One to schedule an eight A.M. meeting for that morning, and another to the high school's twenty-four-hour attendance line from Arella Roth, explaining that Rachel Roth would miss the first three periods of class Monday morning- which was today, wasn't it?- and that Arella was sorry about the late notice. Rachel had left such messages before. Now, her mother approved of them.

That was how she arranged the meeting. At five minutes to eight, she was at the kitchen table with a bowl, spoon, half-gallon of milk, and a brightly colored box with a promising rattle of cereal inside. She wasn't sure who had been in charge of shopping this week, but the usual somber cereals with healthy-sounding names had been replaced by products featured prominently in commercials aimed at children. Whoever had bought Froot Loops probably had intended a joke. Deciding that she might as well earn a reputation as an easy-going potential dictator, she poured the multicolored rings into a bowl without a single cringe at the many unnatural dyes in that cereal.

Two minutes later, the requested personnel arrived expecting a formal meeting. He found her beginning a second bowl of cereal- the tentative first small amount hadn't proved immediately fatal. She looked up, actually smiled (it was subtle, but any who worked in that house would recognize the look), and asked if he would like some.

Mallah didn't know what he had been expecting. He remained standing, remembering that Trigon was known for creating false senses of security.

"Mallah, contrary to popular opinion, I'm not at all likely to have a machine gun up my sleeve. First of all- short sleeves. Second, I'm eating breakfast. Third, it's really hard to get blood out of the grout between the tiles, and I prefer to keep employees with blood in the proper places." It could be a bad idea, to joke- but she guessed that this guy might get it. She wasn't like her dad. She was someone else.

"Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"I had an appointment," she said. "The school might believe it's for a doctor- but really, this is more important than a few classes." Rachel still had her now-famous monotone, but she was in a good mood. She had an idea that could work. This was something that she would do- she was doing it. It didn't matter if it was her first time, it was right. "Would you like some cereal?"

He glanced at the box. "Usually, I don't eat anything with a cartoon character on the front- but there are always exceptions."

"That's not a command," Rachel said. "I'm going to be running things a little differently. The one-size-fits-all nonsense and posturing going on around here doesn't suit me at all. I like subtlety, stealth, and profits- all at the same time. The big style- run them in, shoot until all opponents are dead- might be a favorite, but it's not efficient. If three people can do a job that would take twenty shooters- I just saved seventeen guns, lots and lots of ammo, and some time. The other seventeen will be put onto different missions. I could hit five places with one group, but I'll need leaders." This was her new plan, to hold her father back. No one would die, but people still would lose money- but that was life in Forston. She was moving one step forward.

"I'll still take some cereal, though," he said. "I take it that you've heard Rouge is embezzling."

"Drew over in computers caught a scent of cooked books. She and Gizmo had an algorithm running within an hour, and caught Rouge stewing the books. She went past cooking. She's been holding back on all operations she leads, and the totals into a few million that should be my father's. He's a bit sensitive about that. I'm getting a little more evidence, but I know that you had nothing to do with her. I'm offering you, Brain, and anyone trustworthy in that operation a free way out. You step away from Rouge now, you don't go down with her. She's going to be sent back to Russia- no money, no contacts, no support. My father likes that method of disposing of people. He knows just how many enemies she has there, and how much she depends on other people to be gun fodder."

"What if I don't sign by the X on the dotted line?"

"You find a job somewhere else," Rachel said, unconcerned. "You have a brain to go with the muscle. That alone makes you very likely to be hired. Brain, should he choose to stay with me, can run stats. Gizmo and Drew are much better at surveillance. He'd get his own office off that booth, a supplied top-of-the-line computer he gets to choose, and the paycheck he deserves. No offense, but there's no office in it for you. You'd be a field leader- and you're a mite big for any office but my father's. I don't think he'll move."

"What is in this for you?"

"I told you, a field leader and a statistician. I can afford you both at competitive salaries, and you'd report to me or Jinx. Neither of us froths at the mouth. I don't have a six-shooter in my pocket. You mess up, I give you more chances and go for the paycheck- you have a hard job, with beefed up security, but I don't like losing people."

"You are a strange woman, Ms. Roth- but I accept. I can give you an answer for everyone else by the time you're back from school. Rouge has a few more people that you might like to have around, mostly for field work. We even have a few people who prefer stealth openly, and not just because you're less likely to get shot at."

"Thank you," Rachel said. In her line of the family business, there was nothing wrong with strange. "I know that I might have some odd ideas- but this organization has room for some change. The new casualty regulations help keep the body-count down. Even the threat of having a report per subject keeps down the wild firing- and we don't have to pay anyone for the burial or for bribing the police."

"You're staying around, then? Rumor had it you'd split, when this got too intense."

Rachel wasn't above lying when it would keep her secret limited to people she knew she could trust. "You point the tale-tattlers out, I'll explain just where they have the wrong idea," she said. "They'll live to tell the tale, injury free- wounded people don't do good work. I'm doing things differently, but this might not be wrong."

He offered his hand, she shook it. He was careful- she didn't need proof that he could probably break a few bones. "You're just what we need, Ms. Roth. People work for Trigon- but it's a lie, that criminals don't feel loyalty. He doesn't need protecting. You might."

"I am not weak." She took her hand back.

"That's not what I mean, Ms. Roth. I mean that, should you ever have a problem with your father- well, you're winning some recognition from people who are used to being treated like dumb muscle. If it comes down to you or your father, I know who I'd choose." He put dishes away, then left- but he paused in the doorway. "Thank you," he said. He was gone before she could think of even the typical polite reply.

She was at lunch, when she next remembered to pay attention to her surroundings. She wished she had a book- she wasn't hungry, and wasn't distracted enough to read a textbook.

"What's on your mind, Rae?"

She paused- how could she explain it? "Just- stuff," she said.

"Okay, more honest than 'nothing,' but not much more helpful." Gar hadn't been born the day before. He would actually be seventeen in about a month- which seemed a little older, even if everyone else would be eighteen. "Do you want to talk about it? I'll listen."

Maybe he wouldn't understand, at first- but she could try to explain. She didn't need to protect him from this. He wanted to hear, and she didn't want to do this all by herself. She smiled as Victor, Kori, and Richard suddenly became engrossed in a conversation about just how Kori and Richard had resolved a first fight so fast- Kori had explained in no uncertain terms how they could discuss the matter when they were both calm. Until then, they could go out to dinner. Gar wanted to listen- but maybe she could have him and the team, too. They started to slow down Trigon- and maybe they could come close to their goal.

"You all might as well act like you're listening. Carrying on a completely different conversation could get difficult," Rachel said. "Since I know that no one else can hear us- I'll just start with this morning to explain just what's happening in Trigon. It all started a few minutes before eight o' clock this morning, with me, Mallah, and two bowls of Froot Loops."

"Froot Loops?" Victor asked with a mostly straight face.

"Froot Loops," Rachel confirmed sagely. "Now, are we going to quibble over details, or get through this story in the next nineteen minutes?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Anyway, I heard yesterday from Gizmo and Jessica Drew- I think I've mentioned her, she's the new tech wiz around the place and the only person to understand Gizmo's tech rants- that Rouge has borrowed a few million, and has no intention of putting the money back. Trigon heard, of course- but he had a rather unimaginative response, and I wanted to see what I could get out of this." She explained everything, and was surprised that her friends did understand quite a bit of what she was trying to do- well, maybe she just might have a few people to consult. She didn't have to protect them from this- this was business, however odd.

She heard someone in the hall- one of the usual remarks, not at all creative. Gar, however, was not as inclined to ignore them. Not that day, when she had just created a plan that could save that mutterer and other people. He 'accidentally' tripped as they passed. To catch himself, Gar put his foot out- and wasn't inclined to stop and help when his victim fell, books scattering through the hallway. It was rude- but what he had said was far worse.

"You didn't have to do that," Rachel said, trying to be disapproving. Really, the look on his face while he was falling- she just might let Gar do that once in awhile.

"I wanted to, though- and you can't have all the fun today. You have kiddie breakfast cereal with Mallah, I trip some jerk in the hall- it all evens out, see?"

She smiled, the expression still a novelty. The Titans all headed to Richard's for an afternoon bout of training. She called Mallah, from her room, and had an answer within fifteen seconds. That brief call netted her twelve individuals besides Mallah and Brain as her employees, and Jinx promised to get them all straightened out. With extra time the Titans would guess was a phone call, she took a moment before changing into clothes fit for a workout to slip into the dress. It still didn't suit her, she thought- but maybe it wasn't completely wrong for her.


	57. Mongeese, Mongooses

_I don't own Rikki-Tikki-Tavi (which probably is common rights by now, but Rudyard Kipling deserves his due). If you haven't read it, I recommend it- that's been a favorite story of mine for thirteen years. For those who are curious, there are two dictionary-accepted plurals for 'mongoose.' 'Mongeese' and 'mongooses' are both correct- just don't tell the debaters in this chapter. 'Mongeese' is held by some to be technically incorrect- but there is no one official answer. Thank you to Yale's Kamusi (Dictionary) project for Swahili translations._

**Chapter Fifty-seven: Mongeese, Mongooses**  
Trigon glanced over a staff report. Before he had even put his staff on finding fitting temporary accommodations and a rather dour bunch of the local branch of organized criminals, Rachel had snapped up Rouge's two elite employees. He had made a general offer to Brain, but Mallah called the shots among that group. Rachel had arranged an early-morning meeting with Mallah. He hadn't anticipated that she could arrange such a neat plan to miss school, or that she could airily give an answer involving Froot Loops.

He checked the phrase against the latest database of codes his men provided. Froot Loops still meant the multicolored and overly sugared breakfast cereal. His daughter had bonded with an oversized hitman over cereal. From what he had gathered through one of several moles in place, she had so impressed Mallah that he had taken it upon himself to recruit others in her name. So, she meant to ensure that a partnership with her father was equal.

Trigon still was not completely convinced that she would stay. His daughter was everything he could have wanted- he had been a fool, to hold back for so many years and treat his family like common weaklings that worked for him. Angela had kept her fire, all those years- she just had kept that quiet. A smarter plan, it turned out- she was all the brighter, and he loved her even more. As for his daughter- every day, he knew a little more that she could expand his little enterprise.

She was the next generation. She understood the police, and even vigilante justice. She fought her own employees. They wouldn't dare shoot, of course. In winning, they had the promise of a bonus and of keeping their loot. In being so sloppy that their confidential plans were leaked- they deserved a good fight and a loss. She still was brazen, walking a line between his world and the other two-dimensional place where good was Good and all else was Evil. She was gray, completely gray- eventually, she would choose to show that she was black or white. Either/or, mutually exclusive. She could be gray when in two worlds for a time, but she would have to choose. By her adeptness in that move, he knew which world she could rise to the top in. If she stayed with those Titans- what would be the use? She would work for years and years, fighting every inch of the way for tenure, for an increase in salary, paying taxes and having two point four kids and house payments and a roof that could be redone- instead of being the best, and spreading a thrill with a whisper of a name.

Out of habit, and the need to keep his hands occupied, he disassembled his favorite gun. Rachel had one, just like it- seven shots at a time, a custom model with specially made clips. He smoothed the pieces, polishing them until they shone to put a jeweler's pride to shame. The sparkle of diamond was nothing to the cool black sheen of polished gunmetal. Soon, soon- she would make her choice. He would force her hand, of course. He would not make pre-emptive threats befitting a cheap plot that Hollywood could create. He would wait, wait until she made her intentions clear- and then adjust as necessary. She would spend her eighteenth birthday in her house, of course. She still would not call the place home.

He couldn't understand her. She was beautiful- of course his girl-child was beautiful, with her mother's blood in her- but she still walked stiffly whenever an approving glance was cast. Instead of calling an onlooker, using all of the power she had, and then spurning their hopes- she moved stiffly, an automation, and proved to the world that she was uncomfortable. She could be so much more- but she waited, and frowned, and kept secrets from him. That was both encouraging and suspicious. Of course she would keep secrets. She was smart enough to understand that partners needed a few secrets. No one could be fully trusted, not even kin. He would not betray her unless the need was great- and she knew that she would require a few safeguards. That explained the secrets. Unless….

Unless she was hiding from him because she meant to run. After so many years- he should have discovered her potential sooner. Before those Titans had ruined her, and made her a part of the normal society- before that, she would have loved him and him alone. Now, she loved her friends and her mother. He knew that she held some kind of affection for him, but that did little for the politics of the situation. This required him to either trust her- or to make backup plans.

The trigger on the gun was modified. Just one hint of pressure when the handle was held correctly- and there it was. A shot. Should it come to the worst- his trigger finger rested delicately on the desk, away from the angled curve of metal fitted to his hand. He knew what would have to happen. He had to be practical. No familiar familial attachment could make him forget what was important.

His daughter. No- the business. He had built this. He had been the one to start an entire enterprise, from a loan of only- from a loan. He hadn't done what the rumors said. He hadn't killed anyone to have the initial thousand dollars. He had instead done something simple to buy beginning services of a drug producer. That was how he had started- a new drug. It was deadly, on occasion, but it was addictive- and that meant that people would do anything to give him the money. It began with that partner, the basement chemist who loved the thrill of the secret. That chemist had lived in his mother's basement.

When Trigon had enough clout and customers (and the recipe for the concoction, stolen from his hapless trusting partner), he had exchanged the contents of a bottle of distilled water for a more volatile clear fluid. By the time the chemist learned of any change, Trigon was far, far gone. The house was leveled, the ex-partner was killed instantly, and his mother's remains were found the next day. For some reason, that had almost been enough to make him try to do something- but what was one old woman? All she had done was nag about her oldest child and how he always was playing around in the basement, and how that nice girl from university had called twice about a date, and how it was no excuse that he didn't know what to say on a date…

It didn't matter. So he had borrowed the first thousand- he had killed enough, later. And why would he need to mug someone, when a pretty girl was willing to give him the money, no questions asked? He repaid her in kind words, one thousand dollar's worth. When that limit ran out, she already had no family and no job to raise more money- so then the flattery ended. Life was a business. He had to stay ahead- because he had started many policies for those who fell behind.

He had made quite a bundle from drugs. He owned Jump City's drug trade. He had the entire community of rich kids looking for a thrill eating out of his hand even before he introduced them to a little thing called E, and he rolled on the money while the partiers rolled through a night. He was far past that loan- once, when she cried that he didn't love her, he threw a thousand dollars on her, then added a five-dollar bill. In no uncertain terms, he explained what it was for- and then there was steel in her look, and platinum in her spine. She stood, picked up that green rectangle of money, and ripped it neatly in half. She stalked from the room, a tigress- and he fell in love anew with the idea of just what kind of transaction this would need. It had taken three weeks to convince her that he had turned over a new leaf.

It wasn't a new leaf. It was never a new leaf. It was the same leaf, over and over and over again. The leaf wilted, and was pocked and brown and ugly. He flipped over the leaf, and for a second in the grand change, all seemed different- but it was the same damned leaf. Why had she ever believed him? Maybe he still did love her, and he still said it- but what had changed? He didn't see any alteration in him. So he had seen that his daughter needed to have someone trust her a little- what did that do to change him?

It had been nine months later. Eight months of hoping for an heir, choosing names, and of thinking about just what to start first- and then it all was wrong. So, he had made it clear that he didn't approve. He hadn't stayed to see a birth certificate signed or whatever else went on in those maternity wards- something about snipping a cord or whatever, which seemed like a bloody waste of time to him. Bloody- that wasn't half of it, what went on in there. He had seen cleaner places of slaughter.

So- it had taken years past that to find the potential. Years of bigger and bigger schemes- why just dabble in drugs? He started bringing in guns, better guns, for his employees. He smiled, the day that assault weapons were finally allowed for civilian purchase. Six of his finest upstanding civilian contacts immediately ordered truckloads- and then shrilly demanded their insurance pay up when entire vehicles went missing. Trigon now had an armory. From there- protection rackets were something out of movies tried on a lark that brought in a surprising amount of money. He had a few pawn shops, first, then a few more places that he knew a few big bad secrets about- even the kids who thought they could try double-crossing Trigon. They sweated, they usually paid, they usually lived to pay again.

He still remembered the one case, the time that Rachel had come home her sophomore year with thunder in her eyes. With no warning- she had just walked into his office, dropped a folder on his desk, and walked away. Inside was a precisely trimmed newspaper clipping and an essay. It was very short, brisk, and to the point, marked at the top with green ink proclaiming the paper worthy of an A. He knew that his daughter wouldn't be satisfied- she still had tried to make him notice her for the better reasons, with a grade point average stretching above four and teachers sending notes home with her, mystified that the address on file with the school had so many issues with the post office.

She had written an article on the probable root of drugs in the area. She knew, of course- but her proof that he was the culprit was very impressive. She even had tied in the mayor- it really was a pity, that Al Ghul had just lost the election. Trigon would have to show his displeasure eventually- the idiot man had fouled up a sure-thing campaign by letting his shrill daughter run his platform. The half of the platform that remotely made since would drive the largest legitimate business in Forston to move offices, and grudges against Wayne helped no politician. Trigon couldn't have that- but he also hadn't been able to replace Al Ghul's candidacy in time. His daughter had been an ill-planned last-minute addition. Those two, however, were not important- he'd have them dealt with later.

Rachel knew just how to catch a criminal. It was common logic that she knew how to avoid being found, then. It was simple. He had been- well, it was true. He had been one of the common criminals with no better prospects than purse-grabbing and charming meals from giggling girls working in concession stands. Angela hadn't giggled- but he remembered that meeting most of all, that bored disdainful girl who clearly would rather be anywhere else. Even trailing the horses with a curious broom and dustpan set.

Now- she let him know when she disapproved. He knew Angela wasn't fond of violence. She loved horses, which needed calm movements, soft words, and understanding how to avoid blind spots. She had adapted. Now, she was brash when she needed to be, and used ostentatious displays guaranteed to catch attention- and then she was softer than a horse-whisper, and he couldn't understand how to react when she was gentling him.

Angela went about this now as if he were some wild stallion in need of being accustomed to bridle- but he let her, if only because she was amusing to see. That was all. He was in control, of course- he had to be. She had given that spirit to her daughter- their daughter. Rachel was learning the gentle part of it. He would teach her to be forceful when the situation required something more direct. He would make her someone that no one would think to cross, long after he was faded from the picture. He would show her that she was a daughter to-

"Trigon. You wanted to see me?"

It was a new pastime of hers, to spurn such terms as 'father.' She had made it clear, in precise tones with no emotion for him to dismiss as weakness, that if he wanted a partner, he would have a partner. She would not be his daughter- but she was. He knew that this brilliant child was partly his creation, even if his neglect had shaped her instead of his attentions.

"Do you intend to hire more employees, daughter?" As a counterpoint, he did not call her Rachel nearly as often. They would be a team, a team that the rest of the world would know.

"Yes."

"You will need more of a fund for your payroll," he said. "It will be so."

"Thanks, but I don't need charity. I'm skimming my ventures and giving all involved a flat success rate- it keeps them from insisting on which job they take." She dropped a short stack of reports on his desk, not in the format he had approved. She used her own system- shorter, simpler, just as effective- as yet another defiance.

"What are these?"

"You said that I would begin to operate on my own. Those are your copies for filing- as you may notice, a portion was put into the main fund, and I was the one to sign Jessica Drew's hiring papers. She's my employee- as is Gizmo. Mammoth, Tia, Seymour, and Billy switched last week. We're two divisions of the same company, after all- so it is not treasonous. It will not be treated as such, I trust."

She was cold, just as he had taught her. He felt no regret, seeing her there- posture perfect, expression controlled, faintly disdainful, gaze distant. She had grown up- he didn't care that she would be just as powerful as he when she turned eighteen and the papers were signed. Now, she was his daughter. "Such division is natural," he said. "I merely will attempt to win them back."

She did not smile. "They will not go to you when you whistle."

"Where would the fun be in that?" he said. "Thank you for your time, daughter."

She regarded him for a moment, someone who could not be reached by his words or gestures. He wondered if she would ever fall for anyone, with control so complete. "It is my duty." That was all it ever was, with him. It was only about what she should do, as his daughter- but maybe he should buy into what fathers were supposed to do.

"If you ever need to- have a question answered, my door is open for you, Rachel," he said, trying for gallantry. He might understand her, now that she was closer to his expectations. Now, she was changing- he wanted to understand her. She would be a partner, but not just one he didn't expect to betray him. She would become his equal, a partner he could love as family.

"Except when it is closed," she said, coolly, decisively. He wanted something from her- but he wasn't at all the man she remembered. But- nothing was different. He was bad, after all- everyone knew Trigon was a bad person. This time, everyone was right. "Good afternoon."

"And a better evening, should you stop by later," he said.

She didn't understand, not at all. Was he- no. She nodded, curtly, a brief jab with her chin. Then, she commenced a tactical withdrawal. That was the proper military term, at least. Really, she knew just what she was doing. She was retreating, to a place that made sense. She smiled at the idea, when her new favorite junker car was puttering down the road. She would make sure to tell Gar that, of course- he made the most sense in her life, which showed just how crazy her world was.

She didn't knock on his door, remembering what Shelia had been saying for awhile. Guests knock and need hosting. Friends walk right on in and reach in the fridge. She never had felt that, in her home- and couldn't imagine anyone walking in without a direct invitation. Well, people might walk in- but they wouldn't make the return trip out. This was an entirely different house- and the addition of comfortable furniture was a plus. Almost nothing in Trigon's house encouraged sprawling, and she was quite through with good posture.

Gar wasn't in the front room. She almost yelled from the front door- but that didn't seem polite. Instead, she went into the kitchen to start a pot of water boiling after glancing at the calendar. Shelia would be home within half an hour, so extra heated water would be useful. She put the burner on low, to give herself a little time to just think.

In a perfectly normal kitchen with worn linoleum, she finally had time to think about just how oddly her father had been acting. For a moment, when he was looking at her- he had looked almost like… well, someone else. She had seen a similar expression on Harry's face, Shelia's face- even on Bruce, sometimes. But- that just didn't make sense.

She was frowning before her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller's name- caller ID was a wonderful thing. "Jinx."

"Rachel- the meeting went fine?"

"Just dandy, except that Trigon's acting bizarre. The scariest part is that he wasn't scary. He was- I don't know, proud of me or something. It didn't fit his usual look at all."

"Proud of you?" Jinx wasn't fond of parroting, but that detail needed confirmation.

"Yeah."

"What did you do that he mentioned?" Jinx asked, considering. "I was checking in before heading to Stone's, but if there's trouble…"

"It'll be fine, Jinx," Rachel said. She had the sinking feeling that she might be able to guess what that look had meant- but it didn't fit. Trigon was homicidal, possibly insane, cold, aloof- not father material. It just- didn't fit, at all. "It looked like what I'd guess to be typical fatherly affection, twisted. I think he's trying to play nice, to get me to play along later."

"Maybe he's trying something new- but we'll watch him," Jinx said.

"Like hawks- or like Gizmo with an attention span. I'll get Drew on it- she can keep him interested. Talk to you later- council of war for whatever your dad's up to. No warning and he's suddenly Mr. Brady?"

Rachel laughed at the thought. "No, not quite- just a little different manner. A council of possible war, perhaps- thanks, Jinx."

"Anytime, Rachel- and you're at Gar's, right?"

"Yes."

"Stay there awhile, if you can. Some idiot in the drug arena botched a delivery. Whatever Trigon felt for you earlier- he's pissed now, and I am not going to replace you this close to your birthday."

"Some birthday that'll be," Rachel said quietly.

"Don't you even go all melodramatic on me," Jinx warned. "As I've said before- it's simple. You gather up some names, then wait for the big day. Then, you and Angela troop off to the station, get yourself some immunity, and there you are- home free while a few people take advantage of the power vacuum. That plan's got a fifty-fifty shot of working, riding on whether Trigon can stop you before, during, or after."

"You're a regular ray of sunshine, Jinx."

"Yeah- the kind that can give you skin cancer if you stay around in my radiance too long. Talk to you later- I'm going to lay low at Stone's for awhile, until Trigon stops throwing things."

"Later."

With that, Jinx was gone. Rachel looked around the empty kitchen. The small bathroom was unoccupied, the walk-in pantry was empty except for food, and it was quiet. If not for the hiss of air conditioning, the dull hum of the refrigerator, and the sound of cars passing by on the street, it would have been too quiet. Someone was home, however- maybe Gar was in his room and hadn't heard her come in.

She was quiet as she crossed the narrow house, but that was usual. She was not one for stomping about. That was hard on the feet. She made her way up the staircase, avoiding the creaking sixth step by memory. It was no habit of hers, to go upstairs by the bedrooms- his was a perpetual mess. Besides, that seemed far too- forward, for when his parents often were not home and when they had such clear schedules.

His door was open, so she glanced inside. Before she even saw him, she noticed the floor. She never had seen the hardwood floor, before- there was a clear spot about six by four feet. That was more than enough for a double take, but she didn't give the floor her attention for long.

Gar was fast asleep, sprawled inelegantly over his bed with an open wooden box in his arms. She glanced at the contents of that box- it obviously was much-loved, by the worn edges of the whittled wood. She never had seen that, before- she would have remembered something with rough carvings of elephants and lions and giraffes and something that looked like a mongoose (or perhaps a prairie dog, but that didn't fit the African theme).

Inside- letters. Uneven stacks of letters and more letters, mixed with Polaroids and a few odds and ends. An agate, a skull, a tooth that had belonged to some predator- all were in the jumble of odds and ends. The single glance was all it took. Rachel always had been a quick reader. Before she realized just what she was looking at, she saw the salutation on the letters. _Dear Son, _right over _To our favorite (and only) son, _next to so many others- it probably was wrong of her, to look, but one picture caught her eye. Two people, caught waving and smiling at the camera- the woman was blowing a kiss, and her dark green eyes were undimmed by time. This picture had not languished in too much sunlight. The man in the picture- that was the surprise. If Gar had been a little taller, a little bulkier in muscle, with gray eyes- that would have been him.

Gently, she reached out- she should close that, not look into something. She could respect privacy- except that his arm was in the way. She settled for not looking at the contents of the box. Now, for the real conundrum- should she wake him?

Within two minutes of doing nothing, she had her answer- and she decided that she really wasn't that thirsty. She went to the kitchen, turned off the heat beneath the kettle, and then went back. He still was asleep, even when she purposely had made contact with the warped and complaining step. He normally was a light sleeper- maybe she should just go somewhere else for awhile. Maybe to- Richard's, where she could use the gym. If she wasn't going to have Gar around to talk to, she might as well hit something.

Except- she didn't exactly feel any pressing need to leave. She couldn't recall ever watching someone sleep- shouldn't she have some memory of that? It wasn't entirely alien, after all. Still, she drew a complete blank- and decided that this was a perfect first memory.

Before she had time to commit details to memory, he shifted. She wasn't an expert, but she doubted that frowns were a good thing- and when he yelled (was that Swahili? She'd have to ask Kori), she knew. That was a nightmare. What did people do- in books, someone was always around to sing a lullaby. She was not a singer (and couldn't remember ever singing, either- that was not an experience she was desperate to add to her memories). Instead, she tried the easier path.

She put a hand on his shoulder, as gently as she knew how. "It's okay." She was sure about that much- so she said it again, trying to pitch her voice so that it was soothing. Everything was fine. Her father's oddness wasn't threatening, she was there, and his home was one of the few places with no bad memories. She had new memories, here- like being at home and seeing someone wake up with a wide yawn and not too much surprise.

"Hi," he said.

That was enough to make her smile- all earlier concern was nothing. "I think you were having a bad dream, so I decided to wake you up." Really, she had meant to stop the nightmare- but the nightmare was over, and this worked just as well.

He glanced at the still-open box in front of him. "My room's somewhat safe now. I decided that it would be a shame to make this a true HAZMAT zone- and it was starting to just be a bother." He picked up the box carefully as he stretched into a sitting position- it was a talent, to move that much while yawning. "This is all from the biological parents. I could show you, if you wouldn't get bored."

He sounded almost shy. She only needed to think for a moment about what he would do, to make someone feel better. She took a seat beside him, in her most matter-of-fact fashion. "Boring? You have a skull in there- and pictures. Even if the letters are about the laundry, there's something to look at."

"My mom sent the skull, actually- she loved to look around for things that a little kid would be interested in. My dad was in charge of the Polaroids- and he had to convince my mom. She did the photo work for their research with her camera. Her camera was gorgeous- one with a separate lens and flash that probably cost as much as her microscope. Getting pictures developed from the brush land, though- that can be fun. So, my dad started the Polaroid trend and just loaded up on film that developed itself. That was all before digitals."

"Good- I've always liked real pictures better." He had handed her a stack of pictures, so she felt no guilt at all in looking through them. "Your dad wasn't much of a ham for cameras," she remarked. His mother was always beaming. Rachel noticed that Mrs. Marie Logan had been one of those people who can make wildly frizzing hair a photogenic look. In anyone less obviously congenial, such a trait would be envied. In a woman constantly beaming at the camera- it was natural.

"He didn't like cameras much- and my mom wrote most of the letters. In person, he was different- but he didn't like the idea that you can read something unintended in pictures or letters. He found the crocodile teeth, though- I've lost a bunch of those, over the years, to foster sibs. I had enough of those to start giving presents."

Rachel ran her finger over the carvings. "Who made these?"

"My dad- he was learning something to do when he wasn't researching. He started with the big animals- but then he had to add Rikki."

"The mongoose?" Rachel's guess was all but confirmed by that. She didn't think there were many Rikkis around.

"Yeah, from the Kipling story- that was my mom's favorite to read out loud even before Africa. There was a mongoose by their camp, so she named him Rikki-Tikki-Tavi straight off. My dad was good at telling stories, so she got him to write down the famed exploits of their mongoose." He found just the letters he wanted within a minute, looking through the jumble of writings. "Those took quite awhile- Rikki was there for a long time, usually getting into things better left alone. He even saved my mom, once, from a snake. She was taking pictures, which always distracted her- she'd found some flowers that were not in her guide to Africa, and she wanted pictures before she took a sample.

"She always got into taking pictures- if I unearth a box I have somewhere, I have the volumes of pictures she took before and after I came along. Anyway- she was taking pictures of the flowers, when the daylight was right, and she didn't pay attention to some old burrow. She still had her camera when a black mamba reared up- they didn't send me those pictures until I asked, but she made some very, very good money with those. Close-ups of a threatening mamba- those were classic, but she really would have preferred to not have them.

"Luckily, it was a juvenile- just about five feet long or so, not one of the eight or ten foot monsters. She even heard about a fifteen foot leviathan, later- but her little baby snake was nasty enough, and starting to get its adult colors. The snake was about six feet away- and thirty from the camp. This was before cell phones- not that anything less than a satellite phone works out where they were- and they were miles from the nearest hospital, and the group doctor was in town stocking up.

"The thing was three feet in the air, at least- so it would have hit at the long pants she always wore in the brush. That's when the mongoose ran in. The little guy was positively green from messing around in the lab, poking a curious nose just about anywhere- luckily, he only fell in green stain that my parents were using to mark slides." He held up a picture. "Here it is- the green mongoose killing one of the deadliest snakes in the world. After that- Rikki-Tikki-Tavi was a little bit chubbier from treats, all the burrows around the camp were filled in, and my mom still was just as bad about getting distracted with capturing something on film."

Belatedly, Gar realized that he had been talking quite a bit. "Sorry."

Rachel was vaguely offended- she would have been truly offended if he hadn't looked so confused. "Sorry for what? I think your dad gave you something- and it probably helps that you have some story to tell. Besides, I am quite capable of letting you know if I ever get bored when you're telling a story." She looked at the other pictures- a rearing mamba, a flash of fangs, a valiant mongoose. "What else happened, there?" She kept her tone light. She still didn't know the details of how his parents had gone- but she loved the stories of people who never had been like her father.

"That was the most dramatic- the only things that kill mambas are people, birds of prey, and mongooses."

"Is it mongooses or mongeese?" she asked.

He paused. "I don't know- my mom and dad sent it different ways. My dad said mongooses, my mom said mongeese."

"When there's any sort of doubt- the lady's right," Rachel said.

"My dad was a zoologist-"

"Well, excuse me for not learning taxonomy from my father," she said, so falsely indignant that she had to laugh along with him. "You know what I thought earlier, coming here?" she said abruptly, after she lost track of time in an easy conversation about Africa and proper language and fathers and just what the plural of 'mongoose' was.

"You really wanted to hear about a mongoose?" He knew that she was being serious- but he couldn't help taking the chance to make her laugh. Just as beautiful as the sound was the way she always paused, and how her hand almost made it to her face to cover he mouth- that momentary hesitation before she laughed and smiled.

"You make the most sense in my life," she said. Somehow, they both had ended up lying on the bed, side by side, looking through pictures and letters in search of a story. She leaned her head on his shoulder, another moment to remember.

Somehow, after a minute of mutual thoughts that were too loud and too heavy for words, they found the conversation again. It went back to mongeese- mongooses.

"They're brave," Rachel said, looking at a picture. It was a close-up of a dyed green mongoose- this one before the beard of red snake's blood. The green mongoose, seemingly quite aware that he would attack a much larger animal that day. "Only eagles and the big hawks eat those things, otherwise, and they make their approach from the air."

"It's easy, really," Gar explained, idly toying with yet another mongoose picture. He had retrieved a second box- his parents had sent almost daily letters, to the amusement of the hospital nurses. His roommate, a stamp collector's son, had eventually stopped accepting gifts of exotic stamps- he had more than enough. "Mongooses are quick, agile, clever, and in the possession of a very good defense against venom, besides being born as one of few predators against the nasty snakes. They try to not get bitten. If they hit just behind the head and bite hard enough- they only have to wait for the snake to stop thrashing. They don't do so well against vipers and such- vipers are quicker."

"So, their grand plan for life is to bite the right place, quickly, and hold on," Rachel said.

"Only when they need to," Gar said. "They don't prefer snake-meat. Usually, they tend to go after safer food- insects, worms, crabs, lizards, rodents, carrion, eggs, fruit- they're not picky. Sometimes, though- they go after a snake, and the world's a better place for that. Well, not for the snake, of course, but it certainly worked for my mom that time." He refused to lose the mood- some other time, they could talk about just what had happened to his parents. For now, he had something else to say.

"Are you trying to say something, Garfield?" she asked, using his full name because no one ever seemed to- except Shelia, occasionally, but even she had slipped into saying 'Gar.'

He was absolutely abysmal at keeping a straight face. She told him so- then hit him with a pillow. He was thinking about something else involving his parents now. She put the pictures and letters back in the box before he had the chance to retaliate- and then dashed down the stairs, to get herself ammunition from the couch.

By the time Shelia pulled into the driveway, the war was at a truce. They were a tangle of limbs on the couch, with an unspoken agreement for a few minutes silence while they caught their breath. Rachel broke it, for once- but she had a way to make sure it stayed comfortable. Her day was made- there was no need to lose the feeling of contentment.

"Mongooses," she said.

"Mongeese," he countered- this time trying a little harder at a straight face. He wasn't sure if it was his (still rather abysmal) attempt to keep a straight face or that they had switched sides in their earlier discussion- but it didn't matter. He had told her (in the only way she could listen without being embarrassed) that he thought that she could take on her father, that she could be just as clever and fast and brave- and she hadn't hesitated at all before laughing.

**.Swahili Lessons. **  
"If you even mention the dress, I reserve the right to give you the silent treatment," Rachel warned. Kori would know without asking that Rachel had futilely tried it on yet again- Kori was good at knowing perceptive little unmentioned tidbits.

"I wasn't even going to think of it," Kori lied diplomatically.

"Kori, I say this as a friend. There is absolutely no way Barbara believed you- some people just weren't born for lying. You're one of them."

She shrugged. "You mentioned something about Swahili as a reason for coming over."

"I think Gar was having a bad dream. I didn't ask him about it, but I just was- curious."

"There is nothing wrong with curiosity," Kori said.

"I think he'd agree. He compared me to a mongoose, yesterday."

Kori didn't bother trying to keep her face impassive. She smiled. "There are far worse comparisons possible. Anyone who had been in parts of Africa with the venomous snakes regards mongeese highly."

"Is there a proper plural for that, mongeese?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not at all," Rachel said. "It would be no fun if there was, though. Anyway- during his nightmare, I only caught a few words."

"Swahili isn't hard to sound out," Kori said, sitting cross-legged on her bed. Kori had dragged Rachel up to her room. Even if she and Connie had almost engaged in civil conversation- there was no need to go asking for troubles.

"_Tulia_," Rachel said, imitating the sounds.

"Shut up," Kori translated.

"Is it bad or something, or-"

"No, that is just the translation," Kori said with a smile. "What else?"

"_Rudia_, and then- I don't know."

"_Utarudia?" _

"Pardon?"

"Sorry- will you repeat that?" Kori said. It was so nice, to hear that language again- maybe Gar could remember a few words, or share a few pictures of Africa with her. She missed the sights, even if his mother had been a diurnal photographer.

"That was all I heard."

"It's hard to say, without the context or the right conjugation- something about 'come back to,' perhaps," Kori said. She waited while Rachel took a seat. "You can sit on the bed all the way, you know. It's not like you have to worry that the covers will be rumpled."

"You know I don't-"

"And you are comfortable with me, so let us talk. You did not call to come and say that you wished to learn a few Swahili phrases. That could have been accomplished over the phone. Perhaps you wish to learn how to say _nakupenda, _to him?"

Rachel gave up. There was no use, when Kori started that look. Kori thought it meant 'innocent.' Rachel knew it meant that there would be no changes in outlook any time soon. "I just wanted to ask you if I was doing this right," she said, voice sounding a little small.

Kori smiled gently, putting an arm over her friend's shoulder. Rachel still was touch-shy- but Kori was the exception for everyone in the Titans. "You are doing much better than right," Kori said. "With the way you watch him and he watches you- it is a _riwaya ya mapenzi." _She knew that would meet an objection. "You are not yet ready to hear that in the English," Kori said. "You would shy from it."

"So, you'll tell me in Swahili."

"I would tell you in many languages, just to show you how many ways you can hear it," Kori said. "You don't need the word- you need the- the color of it, but color is the wrong word. But, if someone said this to you in another language- you would understand. You and Gar, you have _hawa ya moyo, _which can mean both deep and fervent."

Rachel smiled. Part of learning to be a leader was figuring out when to admit defeat. "So, I'm part of a _riwaya ya mapenzi. _Speaking of those- is that what's between you and Richard these days?" She had a guess that it involved something overly sentimental.

Kori blushed, just a little. "Now, definitely yes. He and I talked, for days of thinking and clashing heads. He wishes to be a gentleman, a chivalrous gentleman- but he tenses, then, and will not move in a way that he feels to forward. So, I have devised a simple system that he will accept. Should he venture too forward, I shall slap him. Since his main problem tends to be holding back from how far we are both ready to go- I doubt that shall happen." Kori had suggested that she could simply tell him to stop, and finally had grown aggravated enough for an approach that seemed best suited to older-fashioned values. She did love him, for all his adherence to propriety- she supposed someone had to pay attention to the rules.

"Kori, it'll just bug me if I don't get at least one detail straightened out- could you define one of the mystery Swahili words before I try to write them out phonetically?"

Kori nodded. "A _riwaya ya mapenzi _is a love story- a story, not an end," Kori said, trying to not step over whatever boundaries Gar and Rachel had made.

"I like that," Rachel said, trying to remember the phrase- perfectly aware she would forget very soon. "How about you define the other words later?"

"Another day, yes," Kori said. "For today, however, I believe we have discussed quite enough Swahili. I won't even begin to go into the conjugations. Spanish really isn't that hard- there only are a few dozen handfuls of irregulars. English- that is a tricky language, in which every verb seems to have a destination of it's own, spelling is best done with luck, and plurals are nearly impossible- mouse and mice, house and houses."

Rachel smiled in agreement. "And mongooses and mongeese."

"It all comes back to that, doesn't it?" Kori said. "And I know that you mentioned a silent treatment, but I will ask one brief question, just for curiosity's sake- you understand curiosity, I know. Does the dress yet fit?"

A simple question deserved a simple answer. "No."

"That is sad," Kori said, truly meaning it.

"But, speaking of dresses that fit- I saw an ad from Selina's company, and can't believe that she put the blonde in a dress." Rachel had stolen the page from one of the many magazines that seemed to congregate in her mother's room. They were gifts from well-meaning employees, tribute that gathered dust. She put a glossy page in front of Kori. "The color on that girl- even I can tell the dress isn't at it's best. If I get to try on my albatross of a dress- the thing does hang in the closet like a horrible burden, and I will not take that back- I want to see you in this. I'll call Selina, if I have to."

Kori tried to protest- but then she took a look at the dress. If the other fit Rachel so well… "I will make an attempt, on another day. You needn't come along, but I will call you to let you gloat if it is suiting." It was the least she could do, after subjecting Rachel to such a traumatizing experience as taking the dress home. "For now, though- Richard wished for us to have a match of training today."

"Because nothing says Saturday like practice with the Boy Wonder." If it had been said with any degree of sarcastic enthusiasm, it might have been a quip. As it was, flat and without inflection, it was a prophecy of doom.

"We could always show up together. You look at Richard, I look at Gar, we look at each other- and then you smirk and I start laughing," Kori said.

Rachel brightened, just a touch- only a practiced friend would have caught the change. "Kori, you're a miracle worker."

"Only sometimes," Kori said. "Besides, it is good for the boys to wonder- it only makes the _riwaya ya mapenzi _gain a life of its own." Kori believed that Rachel and Gar needed little help, on that regard- but she kept that secret. Keeping a secret was not the same as lying, not at all- and Kori could keep secrets very, very well. She would, until Rachel and Garfield would admit to _hawa ya moyo- _deep love. Until then, they could speak of love in stories and looks and pillow fights- just as she and Richard had done, for a time, until the words had somehow fit the moment.

"Kori?" Rachel said from the door of the room. Her friend was sitting on the bed, eyes closed, smiling at a scene only she could see. "Time to go, remember? And I'm driving. I have a car here, I brought a nice one, and you're as bad as Jinx." That stopped whatever daydreams Kori was having, of who knew what. Somehow, Rachel doubted it would be good for her. Kori probably didn't have another dress that didn't fit her in style- but someday, Kori might remember that going barefoot to the dance was not the best of ideas, and Selina's demonstrations had been dyed for a fashion show by an enthusiastic underling.

But- Kori had no more episodes of daydreams, Rachel's father hadn't been at all out of the ordinary that morning, and Gar had a wonderfully nervous look on his face when Kori laughed. He stayed at her side, trying to find an explanation. She only smiled. "Don't ask- Kori explained it to me in Swahili."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Not at all."

"You and Kori have some talk involving another language and laughing- not even a hint?"

"No." She did kiss him, though- it worked very well, in distracting him before he could pursue a train of thought to diligently. She was not about to admit that she and Kori had wanted to distract Richard for a little- that way, he remembered to not be a complete despot.

He kept her hand in his. She remembered, again, just how warm he was. "We're not doing too badly at this," he said, and for a moment there only was him- then Richard began to realize that Kori had distracted him rather well, and went about his original purpose with a little less seriousness but much more determination.They went along with the idea. It still could be dangerous; they needed the practice. Even if Trigon had acted almost loving- he had his venom left in him, and Rachel knew she didn't have a bottle-brush tail. But- there was only one mamba. Rikki-Tikki-Tavi had fought cobras, hooded snakes who were just as fond of fleeing. With a black mamba- there rarely was any warning or hope for survival without the proper antidote. She might have a warning, however- and maybe it was time to show her father (odd displays of paternal affection or not) that she had a few defenses against being bitten.


	58. Closer

_-EHWIES has claimed the right to marry this story upon its completion. To stop the other offers (believe me, I was just as surprised), I just decided to make this official. While her offer is typical, it will be left to Dots to decide when I'm done with the story. I'm beginning to be a bit weirded out (which takes some doing), so that's the last word on the matter. Disclaimers for the chapter: still don't own the Titans, Shakespeare wrote all plays mentioned, and I don't own Grecian mythology._

**Chapter Fifty-eight: Closer**  
She crossed her arms and leaned back far in her chair- far enough that she just might tip backwards, should she not be careful. She wasn't in the mood for being careful, and if she was lucky, the fall would knock her out cold so she didn't have to shift through this paperwork for another hour or so.

Her desk chair didn't oblige her, instead maintaining enough pressure to keep her from falling to the floor. At this rate, she'd have to hit her head on the desk a few dozen times to get a proper concussion. Since she was vain enough to not intentionally spread bruises across her forehead, she instead took a deep breath and gingerly put her fingers on the keyboard, index fingers finding the F and J keys. She made a few practice stretches to the BACKSPACE key. She had the feeling this could take awhile.

**31 MARCH, YEAR 22**

There. The header hadn't been so bad. Trigon had his own time system, of course- presumptuous bastard. She continued, typing until the keys made a clatter not intended from her sleek new computer.

**INCIDENT REPORT: LEVEL TWO **

She had read through the summaries several times- this was just shy of level one. There were no newspaper headlines or prime-time coverage, even on the local channels where opening a grocery store could make the program. No one considered important was dead- no one was dead at all, but only select deaths could merit an incident being declared a ONE. This particular event involved a highly ranked figure, but was not public.

She glanced at the open page, just to see something other than her computer screen. The report was not completed in a standard word processor, so there was no manipulating the format. It was set in code and binary and strings of commands that she would need help to change. Level two- it was lucky that the important person (for once, Jinx agreed with the regulations) had come through uninjured. Trigon was nasty, when things didn't go his way- and was becoming increasingly protective of his daughter.

**DAMAGES: **

She paused, trying to think of diplomatic phrasing that couldn't come back to make trouble later. She put her hair behind her ear, again, not that it had been a bother- she just needed to do something but type.

**Minor property damage, low-ranked employee unfit for missions. Level nine costs. No course of action required.**

Ten was the lowest level, of course- Trigon would never put in something like eleven. Jinx was lost on the next section. How was she supposed to fill that out? Feeling caught up in something she would rather avoid, she typed in the label.

**DESCRIPTION: **

How in the world was she supposed to describe just what had happened two days ago?

She chose the most logical course of action. Since Rachel wasn't talking to her, Jinx called a likely confidant.

Four minutes later, she set the phone down, too irritated to even curse properly. Gar had no idea- Rachel wasn't talking, yet. So, if Jinx and Gar hadn't heard- Jinx made another phone call, crossing her fingers for luck.

She never had been lucky. Angela Roth hadn't talked to her daughter since before the incident- Rachel had not been making herself available for conversation. Jinx asked what the last conversation had been about, just to feel that she was learning something from this wearying exchange. Rachel had tried to teach Angela to point and shoot. She hadn't been successful- no one had. Angela had barely managed to hit the garage wall from ten paces- and even that was a lousy shot.

Her father might know- but there was no way Jinx would chat up Trigon. She was sane, no matter what people though. It was her morals that could possibly be the tiniest bit questionable- but she never stole from friends, cheated friends, or betrayed anyone. She had to lie, sometimes- but at least she admitted that she was occasionally dishonest.

So, she had no idea still. The Event- already the scuttlebutt Drew and Gizmo fed her had given that special occasion a couple capital letters- had taken place in the west parking garage, a relatively small space. Rachel had returned from patrol, late at night. She and the Titans had just fought someone not at all involved with Trigon, and Victor had been hurt. Rachel had done the stitches, and hadn't taken the time to change to other clothing. She still had traces of blood on her sleeves- she had taken time to wash her hands, of course. Sanitation was an important part of first aid.

Victor was fine, and had assured her the lucky gash on his leg (just above his right knee, not very deep, just sore) didn't need to be fussed over. She'd come right back from a remark like that, of course- and said that she wanted to fuss over it. So, she'd admired the slash- and then hadn't paid much attention to his leg. He still said that he felt much better, so she considered her ministrations a help to healing.

She only had a few details- the garage had been dark, and Gizmo was mortified to see that no one had changed that camera. The new digital models were supposed to be installed- but someone had pocketed a few meant for the more obscure areas of the house. The perpetrators were found within hours of the discovery- but Jinx still was left with grainy visuals that didn't include sound.

_Facts. Stick to the facts, Jane. _The Titans won, with only a few bruises and Victor's cut- but she would think _later _about visiting him to look over his cut again. Not now. She needed to have some sort of report in so the incident would stop being such a popular scandal.

Rachel had come back from the fight tired. Construction had just started on a neighbor's house, so the road was a mess. Rachel had been aggravated before leaving for patrol, and had murmured a few unspecific threats towards perennial annoyances to Jinx. Jinx had agreed, and had known that neither would ever really carry out a few choice threats- as creative as they were, they would be a bother to type up. Even if Joe deserved it, he didn't deserve such a creative death. Their dry graveyard humor was inappropriate, of course- but any sort of humor was better than just listening to the idiots.

Rachel's car (the sport car, Jinx could see- the one that Trigon had bought for her that she used only because someone had managed to total her junker) had pulled in hours past midnight- the snow-storming video at least gave the time as 02:24:53, 29/03/22. She had turned the engine off, then had taken a minute before leaving the car. Jinx didn't need video to understand that. Rachel was taking the time to recollect, so she could be the impassive daughter of Trigon. Thou shalt not mess with Rachel. Jinx knew that face- and had coined the commandment, just to make Rachel smile. It was the whisper-smile she used in Trigon's home- not quite a smile in the traditional sense. To Jinx, it was still just what the doctor ordered.

It really was a pity that Dr. Jinx had no diagnosis on this. Victor feeling bad that he might slow his friends down? Thoroughly kiss him until he wasn't at all thinking about his leg- she believed in diverting brooding thoughts. Rachel looking particularly like she's about to spill out another self-doubting speech? Make her smile. Rachel getting out of her car, picking up her backpack, and starting to walk? She had no likely idea what happened between Arthur Light darting from some concealed spot between cars, confronting Rachel- and Arthur Light falling to the floor, with Rachel two feet away. Light hadn't gotten up again for a long, long time.

Jinx paused the tape, just where Light was moving out. Rachel hadn't locked her car- she just kept moving. No one would touch it. That was the car that Trigon had bought for Rachel. It was HERS. Trigon was increasingly erratic in matters involving his daughter. What once would have been a fine, a cut from the paycheck, or a warning suddenly was a lot more dangerous.

Light was convinced that Rachel was going to betray them all. Jinx supposed that was a valid enough fear- she still wondered just where Rachel would finally decide to stay. Light, however, had been sharing his concerns around. Jinx felt poetic enough to use an analogy- if the stupid folks' trust in Rachel was a nicely stagnant slimy pond, Light was trying to skip stones on it. Jinx never had seen a successfully skipped rock. So, Rachel had been irritated that there was a reported source of rumor even before she left. Fights didn't calm Rachel down- they made her even tenser, not that most people understood. She liked punching either an inanimate object that wouldn't hurt her hand or the cause of her real grievance, not two-bit stand-ins.

So, Light had taken his suspicions to their subject- she was speculating. If Richard could do it, so could she. Rachel had listened for a few seconds, then had shifted just a little in her stance- Jinx caught the slight motions on the tape. With that, Light froze, current expansive gesture halted- and then there was a moment where nothing moved.

There only were small signs, barely visible. Rachel's posture was clenched. Jinx would put good money down that her fists were balled tightly. So, she's not happy about whatever the moron said- and then there were small signs. There was a blurring of the chin, which meant that all words spoken were delivered with the minimum jaw motion required for precise speech. The change in shadows could be the slow shake of a head- but then there was the part of the video Jinx couldn't understand, not at all.

She glanced back at the last typed line. DESCRIPTION. _Here goes. _

**Arthur Light (fourteen years experience, on basic pay-scale for gradual raises, no major disciplinary action or merit-based reward) approached Rachel Roth (second-in-command, full meritorious conduct, superior in hierarchy), presumably to voice his concerns involving her loyalty. (Evidence for conjecture: various remarks over previous few days.) The altercation began at 02:24:53, 29/03/22 .**

She glanced at the start. So, it wasn't horrible, except for her usual distaste for the calendar system- conceited bastard. She probably should find a noun, but Trigon wasn't worth the time. Year of Trigon indeed- he hadn't even noticed that Rachel had fled to her room, after this had happened. He had instead transferred Light to the infirmary- since there had been only words, and nothing that was deemed worthy of true attention, that was all that would happen. Rachel had declined to take any further action. Her self-absorbed father hadn't notice- Trigon had even been heard to say three days before that he loved his daughter, and Rachel hadn't refuted that. She had been thoughtful about something Kori had said- _riyawa ya mapenzi_, Jinx believed. Rachel hadn't explained it- but she still had given her father a long look.

She hadn't refuted it. Then, she seemed to debate some point with herself- and grew steadily more conflicted about some internal debate. The pressure of dealing with a sudden flurry of rumors was not at all helpful. So- Rachel had been irritated, going in, and whatever had happened in that fight, exactly- it hadn't helped. Gar had needed to get home early, so she and Victor talked awhile while she stitched up his leg. Victor hadn't shared details- but had hinted that it involved Gar. He never said the name, of course- but he had used their name for Victor's teammate. It had started as a game- how to make sure no one near Jinx would know who she was speaking of, so the organization members remained clueless. Now- he could speak around Titans.

So, something about Gar was making Rachel confused. There hadn't been a fight. Jinx glanced at the time- late on the 31st of March. Too soon, it'd be Rachel's birthday. She wanted it to be over, but she didn't want that day to come. With Trigon involved, it couldn't be pleasant.

**Before the encounter, Ms. Roth had been on a regular patrol, as is her habit. **

It was bad form to mention the Titans beyond an obscure reference in reports.

**She arrived home, exited her car, and was approached by Light. He spoke for twenty-three seconds (approximate figure, evidenced in security tape) before stopping. All speculations are based on guesswork, as Ms. Roth is not required to explain events and Light has not responded to questioning (at the time of this report; changes will be made, if necessary). Ms. Roth spoke for some time over a minute. No close guess can be made with available evidence. When she was finished, she stepped closer to Light. **

That much was obvious in the tape. She moved forward, possibly with her right arm held forward, hand at the level of her chin- it was hard to tell, with the camera's angle. One blip of white could be a half-extended finger, or a result of the 'snow' that moved across the recording.

**He collapsed to the floor. Ms. Roth left the scene at 02:27:40, 29/10/22, then continued to her room. Light was later collected by the infirmary staff on duty, associates Beebe and Markson. **

The incapable morons probably couldn't tell a broken bone from a ruptured appendix- but there were only two doctors in Trigon's employ, and they would only be woken for someone with a high enough rank. Anyone else would wait for clinic hours. The doctors, of course, had lost their licenses through some scandal or other- but no one worried about licenses. They knew a radius from an ulna, and could deal with all the usual trauma wounds. And if they were the bottom of a slimy bucket- well, the third doctor didn't show up on rosters. She was in reserve for real need, and took a much higher paycheck.

**The seriousness of the encounter can only be loosely guessed, and was so ranked for the presence of Ms. Roth. No physical harm occurred, save bruises where Light fell atop of a loose bumper. The car was fixed with minimal expense, all deducted from Light's wages.**

Jinx looked over the report. Everything sounded clinical enough, and she had all the details covered.

**SUGGESTED COURSE OF ACTION: No reprimands required by the books. Light has no punishment save reparations deducted from pay, Ms. Roth is exempted from accountability for all but class-one actions. **

**END REPORT.**

There. That was it. Jinx glanced at the end- class-one actions. Class-one actions were betrayal of a superior, murder of a superior, treason against a superior… only action against Trigon would bring trouble. If she was successful in whatever happened- there wouldn't be a truly enforced consequence. _Just what are you planning, Rachel? _Perhaps that was what was on Rachel's mind. She thought of her birthday of a disaster. Jinx tried to be over-the-top, to make The End something so melodramatic she would have some hint of smile- but Rachel had only agreed that her eighteenth birthday could be The End.

Rachel- that was it. Jinx had several crude suggestions for just what the report could do, but she kept them for herself and let her anger seethe. Double double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble- whatever the line was. She wasn't a Shakespeare expert, even if she had looked through a few plays- well, there wasn't anything wrong with that. The language made a lot more sense than the people she usually dealt with, and what was people's problem with Shakespeare? Murder, intrigue, romance, magic- all of that stuff, without modern euphemism. She only kept that quiet so she wouldn't have to set the record straight, that was all- didn't matter that her dog-eared copy of Hamlet was right next to a unicorn figurine she'd had since who knew when.

Rachel should read that, not whatever epic poem her English class was covering- the only Shakespeare that class had touched was Macbeth. That was the thing about Shakespeare- Jinx didn't feel like she needed to emphasize the words. You said "Romeo and Juliet," people got the idea. Dewey-eyed dopey kids who couldn't get one silly little love story to work out. Romeo and Juliet, a cautionary tale- don't say it too soon, be sure before you do- 'cause once you say it, you can't unsay it for later. You say it and that's it. Forever. You do- or you take it back and ruin it forever.

Jinx frowned. This was _not _the time to go back to that old quandary, to think about how he'd pause when he almost said something that he couldn't take back- like he knew that she'd turn tail in a strategic backwards motion if he ever said _that _word. That was something that needed emphasis, even when Shakespeare didn't. Macbeth. Hamlet. Romeo and Juliet. Othello. Julius Caesar. A Midsummer Night's Dream.

And- _that _word, that verb and noun and interjection that could be an adverb or adjective.

_Not important now, Jane, _she told herself firmly. _Rachel's going on her third day of moping, she won't talk to Gar, she didn't give Victor a hint about what happened with Light- time to go do your worst. _

_Unless… _She considered. She knew enough that Rachel could get away with just giving a few answers, and that would be the end of it. If she wanted to find the real story- maybe she should start at the middle. It made just as much sense as other place, after all. And with a situation this illogical- maybe it was time to think sideways.

She made the call, named a rendezvous point, and only made one stop on her way out the door. It was just ten o'clock- not late, by usual standards. Rachel's door was ajar- Jinx glanced inside to see Rachel asleep over her homework, with pages and pages of diagrams and scribblings caught up in the sheets of math. Jinx, moving as carefully as she could, replaced the book with a pillow, and put all the possible plans in a neat stack. She glanced at the corner of the assignment- math was after lunch. There was no need to wake her, when she would have time.

There was only a faint _click _as Jinx closed the door, so no one would venture inside. Sure, she had trespassed- but she was a special case. Some rules need not apply- and sometimes someone needed to bend them. She dropped in the office for a moment, and glanced at her report's status- Trigon had seen it, her answering machine wasn't blinking the hellfire red that meant that someone way high had called with orders. She was fine for the night- and she would be doing gang-ish business. Sort of.

She never had liked skirting the issue. She'd read too many plays, seen too many moves- heard too many tales of people who wished they hadn't waited. She was in a risky business. She had time to be direct- and if she shocked people once in a while, all the better. It was about time she was open about the way that her pulse quickened and a smile spread on her face when she just saw the car approaching.

Still, there was such a thing as patience. He asked just why she looked like the cat that ate the canary and the family hamster, and she just smiled. "I'll tell you at your house." This wasn't something for a car. Besides, reaching over was uncomfortable, and this needed contact. _To say it or not to say it- duh. Hesitation really didn't work out well for a Danish prince, why would it work for me?_

So, they went to his house, they went inside, and he was just about to ask when she said it- just like Kori had suggested, and just like she'd been thinking about after reading all the ways that it could go wrong. Unicorns and Shakespeare, tough girl who loved to read about romance- she said it, and he said it right back with something like wonder. She might have been scared off by the besotted tone, once upon a time- but it only mirrored what she sounded like. And- it had been easy, saying that. Way, way easier than thinking about it. So, she'd said it- and "_that _word" really wasn't that bad.

She'd said it, to him- and nothing bad happened. She still was tough. She just was a nail-hard veteran of the 'organization,' working to help someone out- and Jane and Jinx were in love. She was both, with him, and that was far better than one or the other.

**.Midas.**  
Jinx had been making progressively pointed threats for four days. Just because she had talked to Victor, just because she and Victor had something else finished- what did it matter? It was a like a flowchart for relationships. Rachel didn't like flowcharts, or everyone else insisting she do something that had been lurking in the corner of her mind. That was- well, it could wait until she felt like she had some say in the matter. Her birthday was coming fast, and she finally had a plan.

She did need to talk to someone- but it wasn't Gar. Not yet. First, she had to get one allegiance. Just one promise from the person she trusted the least- and then the rest would fall together. She knew who she could trust, and just needed to hear them say it- once they did, they just might stay trustworthy.

She knew just where to go from her room. To her left, she took the darker staircase that spiraled to the basement. From the basement, she found the stairs by the unused elevator that led down to the training room that only one person used. It wasn't a completely reliable method, but she usually could find him here.

"Slade."

He had been thinking, she could tell- otherwise, he would be training. Training, training, until he would beat Trigon without losing first… "To what do I owe this honor?" he asked, but his words weren't sincere. He was already trying to get under her skin- but she wouldn't let him. Not this time.

"There is one week. We both know that I'm not interested in leadership, and that if I make a move, Trigon will not be pleased."

"What trade are you proposing, Rachel?"

"I'll explain as soon as I can clear up a few details. All I need to know is that you're interested." She couldn't believe she was doing this- but if this would get her home and free, and maybe have Trigon where supporters controlled only by fear and money could not reach him… she would send her father to jail, and let one killer free. She had to talk to Richard- if he could ever understand. "You'll end up out of Forston- but with employees and all the money you need."

"You have my interest- but can you trust me?"

"I can trust you to not go to Trigon. We both know who he would favor."

"You can have that- but betrayals never go exactly as planned."

"I know." With those two words- she wasn't just a high school girl anymore. She was an adult, world-weary and already tired of all the complications. "You'll hear from me soon."

"Tomorrow," he said, because he was Slade and not a lackey. He was an accomplice.

Deals with demons, deals with demons- Rachel just wanted to leave. "Tomorrow," she agreed coolly. She left before he could say anything else- quickly, but not so that she was running away. She had other business.

She didn't call Richard. She couldn't ask that of him- and maybe forgiveness really was easier than permission. She didn't expect that either would be given freely- but she had time to wait for the former. Instead, she made her way to the observations booth. Predictably, there were two people. "Drew. Gizmo."

"What do you need, Ms. Roth?" Gizmo asked, used to her sudden appearances and flat tone of voice.

"I need to know just where you would put your loyalties, in a hypothetical situation where they may be divided." She needed them. If this was going to work- she needed them and Jinx and Mammoth and all the rest of them.

"With our leader, of course," Jessica said. "You hired us, Ms. Roth. Besides that- you're much safer to work for." It was said lightly- but she meant it. Rachel wouldn't question that- if she knew just how many gaps were in this plan, the worrying would send it to pieces.

The other brief conversations went the same- and she saw her father in the hallway. Her lips moved without her thought- and the hints of a smile felt sad. Happy birthday indeed- he wanted something, but it wasn't best for her. It wasn't. She would not spend the rest of her life there- even if her other plans were hazy. She could plan for the future once she made sure there was something to plan for- and when she had the time.

It took only an hour to write down all details of just what she was planning. She wrote it longhand, because a computer would make it too clinical- and too likely that Trigon could find a copy. She wrote for pages and pages until a sharp pain cramped her hand, and then finished with a brief summary. As hard as she had tried, to keep the account emotionless- it seemed sad, to her. Sad that she should be planning to rebel against her father, that she should be taking help from Slade, that the Titans couldn't help in the fight- but it would all be over soon.

She put all the papers into a manila envelope, leaving the seal open. She left the envelope blank, mostly because she didn't know how to address such a thing. It would be hand-delivered, at least- she had put off talking this over with Gar for too long.

Sure, they had talked- in the hallways, in class, at lunch, on patrols, at the one practice where not much practice was accomplished…. They just hadn't talked about this. The End. The title fit, in Rachel's mind- no matter what happened, something was over. She would only miss the convenience of wealth- the money came from sources that tainted any other quality.

She drove herself in the fancy car she still hated- all of that money, and so few features she actually liked. It just didn't fit. It seemed like a good thing, perhaps, until a second look- it wasn't very subtle, it was flashy, and the insurance on it was just ridiculous. She didn't care who was paying it, she didn't like seeing that much money go to waste- and still didn't know just how her father had managed automobile insurance. It probably was some sort of fraud or other, but she wouldn't look into it unless she had to.

That was the other problem. She was good at running "the business," as her father called it now. As if it were a mom-and-pop corner store that still had full-service gasoline- she just could see where money was being wasted. It seemed like a good thing- but maybe if she had been bad at it, just genuinely bad, her father would have disowned her months ago. Maybe he would have tired of her, would have insisted she move away- but that wouldn't help anything. She just had a Midas touch, that was all- and it wasn't a good thing, no matter what people say. Everything turned to gold, even what would be better left alone.

She sat in the car for two minutes, at least- she didn't know how much time passed before she glanced at the glowing digital numbers. She turned the key, letting the idling motor quiet. He knew she was here. It still was light out, even at something past eight o'clock, and he waved from the front window.

He didn't stay there. She would come in when she wanted to come in. She smoothed her hand over the envelope one last time- and winced when she cut the pad of her finger on the edge. It was a good thing that she didn't believe in omens. Instead, she opened the car door and made her way to his house- it was time that they talked about this.

So, she made her way to the front door, and it took a few minutes of talk for her to shift the subject. She had a plan, something that might work- and she wondered if he would be able to help. So, she hesitantly asked the question- and he smiled when he answered.

"Rachel, you remember how all this started? We said we would help out, and we meant it. Maybe I shouldn't speak for the team- but I promise that I'll help. Just let me know what I have to do."

She couldn't remember why she had delayed. He understood, and she finally had someone who believed in her. She had just explained her strategy- and he was offering to help.

"_You think we can take down the organized crime behind the gangs in this town?" _That had been her skeptical contribution, when Richard had that dangerous idea. She hadn't believed they could make a difference. Now- she knew that the Titans were wraiths, stealing into the imaginations and doubts of criminals in the towns. They fought clean, and they handed apprehended opponents over to the police. They always knew what was going to happen- they were more than human, in the eyes of most in her father's organization.

"_We can try."_ Richard still believed. He wasn't so moral that he only saw what he wished to, but he kept that last optimism he claimed to not believe in.

"_Do you know what you're up against? Innumerable gangs. Enforcer squads. Entire units of anti-hero brutes. The second-in-command, wanted in twenty-eight countries where they have some shred of proof that he committed a crime. And then there's the man in charge, never seen on the streets." _Soon, Slade wouldn't be a part of the town's blight. She hadn't known, then, that she could be bold enough to make her own plans. Now- this was what she had been born for. There was one crime center, and she would take over and make a few changes.

"_Trigon. But- don't say no right away."_ Richard had fought the hardest for the idea. He led them because he believed in the cause, and because he was damned good at it.

"_No. You will get people killed, since you seem the leader type and had the idea. You lead, you're responsible, you end up in a psych ward when you see someone die. Five teenagers aren't taking down the gang."_ Five teenagers hadn't taken the gang down. They had come close to making more than a large dent- but she was the last factor. It only took one girl to erase everything accomplished.

"_Take down? No. Slow down? Yes. If we can help someone, just one person- wouldn't it be worth it?"_ Richard had known, even then. He had talked with the three others, and they had nominated him the chief debater. He had been right. The Titans were worth all the effort, the blood- the tears, too, even if she had not contributed much to that score.

"_Do you not need superheroes to create a team to aid in the combat of crime?" _Kori had grown so much- she was confident, now, and caught the eyes of everyone. She trusted herself, and her new skill in social situations and fighting proved that.

"_We have surprise. We start training. My uncle would be happy to think I had something to do to get me out of the house. He already seems happy that I'm gone more often." _They hadn't known just who Richard's uncle was yet, of course- that would come later.

"_My parents would see that I had friends." _Kori had her friends- and wouldn't lose them, if Rachel had anything to do with it.

"_I'm game- as long as we're not using real names. If my parents are finding out, it's after I've built up a name." _Victor had kept the group together in times of tension. He was strong, and, most of all, he was level. His temper rarely took hold of him. Jinx still was puzzled at why someone would restrain something so fun to let out.

"_I'm in." _Garfield- he had been there, for everything, and had braved months of her inexplicably sour moods.

"_We are teenagers. In high school. I doubt any of you have ever had a gun pointed at you, had an arm broken on purpose, or watched someone you care about go down. If this team is going to happen, we will need to care about each other, work together, and keep identities secret and separate. You will not want to be caught unawares, or put your families in danger." _Now- all that had changed. They all had seen a gun. Rachel herself had been shot, and they had kept her safe. Their families were safe, they were aware, the Titans were a team, and she cared about them. All of them.

"_We know." _Victor knew when not to push her harder- how could she forget that?

"_We will." _Kori was a silver-tongued persuader, now, who always could lend a golden ear. She was a listener, and the most open to all emotions.

"_We'll need you." _Richard had said that, so long ago- and maybe they still did.

"_Be on the team, Rae." _It fit, that he had said it. All of this- she had done it with him.

"_My name is not 'Rae,' beastly nuisance. I'll do it." _Only her mother and Gar called her 'Rae.' Maybe he had known, all those months ago.

"_Meeting at my house after school. My dad's not home, and I have a few things I'd like to show you that should make our work a little easier." _That had been their base, until Richard's uncle was found. That had been the night the Titans finally had a place to touch down.

"_This team's going to take a titanic effort." _Rachel hadn't known just how hard it would be to think that the group could ever stop being the Titans. They had changed her, for good and for the better. They had made her the person she was. She could do this. She had the strength, from them. Titanic strength.

"_Then we'll be Titans." _Victor had said it. She believed him.

"I remember," she said to Gar. "And now- I have ideas, and something that I think will work. Plan A- which also can be B or C, if details don't work."

He was listening, she was ready. She told him- and for the first time had hope that it just might work. No matter what Light claimed, that she was going to be the death of them all- this could work. Gar trusted her. Why shouldn't she consider being the tiniest fraction optimistic? The End was closer, but she finally had a plan. Everything could go wrong-or it could all go right.


	59. Gothic

_This story was created on July 26th, 2005, on a band camp bus. On July 27th, I started typing this. After about eight chapters were typed, it was posted September 17th. (I looked all these up, when I realized that I couldn't post all of this within a year.) This story has passed 300,000 words, and I'll just take a moment to thank all the people who have reviewed, and who are still working through this story. So- now that the sentimental stuff for the author's note is through- set those handkerchiefs aside, because The End starts in t-minus one (to borrow a line from Garfield.)Since people tend to get sentimental near The End… might want to keep the hankies handy. _

**Chapter Fifty-nine: Gothic**  
There was always a line in the sand. It might not be a very clearly drawn line. It might not be marked by a dramatic change in color, texture, or appearance. It did not come with warning signs, audible hints, or any gimmick to save the unwary. If you crossed that line, you would know when- there would be no time to tense up and prepare for the inevitable. As tensing before an occurrence actually hurts the body, that might have been a good thing.

It was a very simple matter, yet another comment in yet another English class. This time, however, it was one comment too many. Gar had already labeled the day "T minus one and counting." He was one of five people in the world who could get away with saying something like that- and one of two who knew that such a joke wouldn't bring on a death glare. It was "T minus one." She had packed the clothes for the next day in her backpack, just so she'd have less time to spend at home- and had already debated just what one wore to a ceremony granting some undesirable privileges. She had only found toast for breakfast- someone would eventually break down and go grocery shopping, and she wasn't about to do it.

She was wearing a perfectly normal shirt (even if it did fit a little closer than she would have chosen, Kori had insisted), blue jeans, and running shoes (even if she didn't exactly plan on running, they were comfortable). She had responded to attendance, turned in her homework, and had read out loud from the current work by Poe. The only positive point was that the selection was not from "The Raven." Instead, it was "The Tell-Tale Heart"- just as cheery.

So, she read. The teachers weren't completely intimidated by her anymore- but they knew that if she said that she would not get her father's signature on that progress report, pressuring her with the importance of academics (your parents aren't listed as divorced- don't you want them both involved?) would not work. Even mentioning the upcoming parent-teacher conferences was dangerous. She had mentioned that her mother would attend, which was new- but the unfortunate social studies teacher who had hesitantly broken one of the cardinal laws still was nervous. He had asked if her father would be attending. Mr. Roth was on the 'don't mention' list, in the notes teachers compared about Ms. Rachel Roth.

She had been having a rough week. Her father was alternating through about five settings (violent, crazy-violent, crazy, angry, and doting), Slade was almost continually smirking (even when her father was looking), she had homework that wouldn't be done (she had a few more important obligations, whether or not the teachers believed her), and Evans was gunning for her because the social studies teacher had called in a mental-health day. The stupid prig of an assistant principal was convinced she had keyed his car. She couldn't believe it. Of all things she had been accused of, including murder, that was the stupidest. She was the heir apparent (and partner, as of the next day) of Trigon. _That _Trigon, as if there were more than one. Since she really didn't feel like going into the fact that he could accuse her of something a little stiffer than vandalism- she had torn the detention in two and stated that he had no proof she had done it. The high school's video surveillance would prove that she had not. Until he could prove a falsehood was fact, she was going back to biology.

That had been Thursday, when Gar had only been considering a "T minus two" joke. Today was Friday, Evans had found the jock responsible through surveillance tape(the kid had worn his baseball jersey- the varsity team was home, his number was in white on dark green, and Evans couldn't blame her for that so was trying some other offense), her father was only more erratic, a teacher wanted to know just what familial responsibilities Rachel had- and the twit (Rachel could think of a far more fitting moniker, but she didn't need to give Evans any reason) sitting behind her had called her gothic.

It was stupid. It was like Light in that garage- she had told the whole story to Gar, when he asked. Light was convinced that she was going to have the entire gang killed- from there, it had gone into some tangential explanation of how Rachel embodied darkness. She had shut him up with several succinct threats, and had hinted how she wouldn't kill such a low-ranked lackey herself. It had not been right, playing on his fears. It seemed like something her father would have done- but Gar explained the exonerating concept of 'a bad week.' Really bad weeks excused many things. She qualified for two bad dye jobs, a new car, ice cream whenever desired, and one explosion.

She just might take him up on the explosion part- the comment slipped in just moments before the final bell. Rachel turned, slowly, leaving her book open on her desk. "Kelly."

Kelly didn't say a word. It was probably because she was busy smacking her gum, didn't respond to promptings from a 'Goth,' and didn't know what to say.

"Gothic literature, as we have heard explained in class at least twice, is marked by lofty language, internal conflict, and, commonly but not definitively, struggles with the supernatural. Poe wrote Gothic works. Bram Stoker pulled in his fame on just one work of Gothic literature. Even Hawthorne can be considered Gothic, with the supernatural angle left out- except for Pearl, perhaps." Rachel's eyes never left Kelly's. "We could make this discussion Gothic, if you like."

"And just how would you do that? Turn into a bat?" She was uncertain, but not about to lose- her friends were waiting outside the classroom, possibly listening. She had to get a few good lines in so they would have something to say this weekend- and talking about a Roth encounter still could get some sympathetic attention from the jocks on Roth's not-liked list. Kelly could count one Roth was known to like, and he was rumored to be dating a criminal- besides, he counted Roth a friend. Kelly still didn't get it.

"No. In case you missed the point, we don't need something out of the ordinary. I can provide the lofty language. The internal conflict is debating just how hard I should hit you, because passively ignoring idiots is not at all effective. The supernatural, since you think we need it, will be you having the brains to walk away before I leave scars that won't fade before prom."

"You- you wouldn't-"

Rachel stood, very calmly collecting her books. "Of course not- not in the classroom. Besides the security cameras, I would hate to ruin your textbook with bloodstains. That object at least shows intellectual promise," she said, her voice a cold monotone. She realized that she almost never used a monotone with her friends, not anymore- and she didn't miss it. She also didn't mind finally saying something back to a very irritating person, no matter how immature it was. Rachel walked away, pausing only for one last comment. "I'll see you later, Kelly."

"Wait- you'll-" Kelly searched for witnesses, then took a step to follow Rachel. She didn't need to see a glare to realize that might not be the best idea. Instead, she waited for her group of friends to come find her- but even that sensational story was nothing. They'd been expecting threats like that ever since she had started sitting with other people at a lunch table- maybe they had come to their senses and ditched her.

Gar found Rachel slamming her locker. "What did that poor flimsy construction ever do to you?" he asked, catching a book she had dropped before it could hit the ground. When the hallways were a mass of moving feet, dropped books often didn't survive without sustaining mortal wounds.

"It isn't Kelly," she said simply. "Remember what I said at lunch- about people assuming I'm Gothic?"

"If someone called you a Goth one more time, you were going to snap." He remembered that. The expression on her face had made him consider warning someone.

"I did- a little. I gave an impromptu lecture on Gothic writing- she was lucky to avoid the accompanying historical notes on the architecture compared to the construction of the wall I could have shoved her at. No bodily injury, but Kelly Whyte probably thinks that she's the Gothic axe murderer's next target."

"We both know that's not your style," he protested, putting her book in the usual pocket of the backpack. "Axes are way too hard to conceal, too time-consuming, and too difficult to clean up from afterwards- and is there a reason you have another pair of jeans in your backpack?"

"Those have a hole in the knee, and give much more freedom of motion without giving the appearance that I'm ready for a fight. Besides- I don't want to spend much time at my house."

"You could not go there at all," he suggested. "Richard volunteered his house, since my parents are renovating. They're moving a little closer to work- and to Bell U. They said that if the apartment Bruce offered ever needs help- even needs clean socks- they'll be a phone call away. Anyway, Richard volunteered his place so you don't have to have too much birthday fun with the family."

"So, Richard's it is. I'll see enough of my house for awhile."

"You know that if you ever have a problem, we'll race over to your place?"

"I know. That's why I gave you the address- on the condition you don't come over unless completely necessary. By completely necessary, I mean that backyard conditions are Three Mile Island. I'll let you know when."

"I know, I know- don't follow the yellow brick road until the munchkin shows up to point you in the right way."

"Who's the munchkin? Me or Jinx?"

"You're both dangerous, so I'll just say that there is no munchkin and call the last comment Friday-afternoon just-out-of-school poetic license."

"Nice cover," she said with a laugh.

"Thanks- I need those, sometimes. It's something that I've worked on- you've given me lots of time to practice."

"Thanks," she said dryly. "Just what every girl wants to hear." She kept her perfected straight face for a moment, then smiled so it was clear she was joking.

"So, tonight, there won't be any- issues with your dad?"

"None," she said, smiling a touch at that. 'Issues' indeed- but it was politer than finding a fitting piece of terminology. "He tried to make some big-time deal. I told him very clearly that you guys were all staying around- and not as bargaining chips. He knows that he can't outmaneuver me on that."

"You have almost everything covered- I don't think you'll need to go farther than D, even if there was a second ice age." He had read through the complete plan. The Titans knew what was happening- but for the moment, it was just a group affair. It was in a safety deposit box Victor's dad had around- Mr. Stone had let them use it. She felt that was a little too much fuss. Gar knew that she felt better with that tucked away, and he and Victor agreed that was the important part.

"There was something else I've been planning," she said after a few moments of silence, just as he said "I've been meaning to mention something."

"You first," they said at the same time.

"Ladies first."

"No dice- we did traditional last time there was a bout of chivalry, your turn to be first." They both were stalling.

"So, same time."

Was he- "Same time," she agreed.

"After a countdown."

"You count." She almost would smile, at just how silly they were being- but it was sillier if they both looked serious, and she didn't want to ruin whatever it was.

"Three."

She took a breath, just because- and knew that it was going to happen. _Come on, just like you practiced. _She still couldn't quite believe that she had needed to practice- but the words sounded right, now, when she thought them through.

"Two."

Was he counting slowly on purpose? They both had stopped, two blocks from Richard's house, and were waiting for whatever was going to happen. She saw Victor go by, but was too preoccupied to wave. She would explain later, to him- and saw a flash of pink in the passenger seat. Jinx was there. She would make sure Victor didn't feel like people were ignoring him- Rachel wasn't in the mood to multitask.

"One."

_This is it so say it now and don't you dare think that you'll go play the hero without saying _"I love you."

"Rachel, I love you- and I know you're probably uncomfortable with the idea, but I just need to say it because if I didn't it would bother me knowing that you went off to have a face-off with your father without me even beginning to say that- what?"

She had been about to stop him, but he figured it out and put on the brakes. "Would you like me to repeat that?"

He nodded. She smiled- and did. More than once, especially when he decided to stick with his first four words.

Later, they walked into Richard's basement. It took much longer than it should have to walk two blocks, perhaps- but Rachel knew that anyone who was involved enough to go to someone with a sighting of some sort was busy at her home, preparing for her birthday party. She explained that, rolling her eyes- and almost missed the sight before her in the basement.

"Surprise!"

Rachel laughed- Kori was the only one to yell. Jinx, Victor, and Richard had all been involved in a video game, and were guiltily finishing the last few seconds of a race. Rachel saw a banner that screamed 'Happy Birthday Rachel!' in eye-smarting colors, balloons, and a pie. They had given her a surprise party.

"We know we're a day early, but we figured you'd be busy tomorrow," Gar said.

Victor looked from one to the other. "Gar, you were supposed to delay her for a few minutes, not take forty minutes to walk two blocks."

"Is that so?" Rachel asked, feigning irritation- as if she could be mad, when someone hadlistened toher comment that she didn't like cake that much.The sight of neon balloons had only made her happy. Something was wrong with her- but she was fine with that.

Gar shrugged. "Well, she delayed me," he said. "You went tearing by us right when I was at the key moment of distracting her, that's all."

"I went 'tearing by' because I had to pick up Jinx and the pie- and you already were walking. Then, there was a problem with the balloons, and we had to get Alfred to fix the sign- all the time we were thinking you'd be right in. Then, we send Jinx to check- and you're too busy noticing each other to come down here," Victor said.

"Leave them alone, love," Jinx said, peering at Rachel. "There's only one thing that can make someone look that dementedly happy- and it comes in pairs, when done right." She looked from Rachel to Gar, then back again. "I think they did it right."

"Can we clear up the pronouns?" Richard asked. He was almost sure that he knew what they were talking about- but he liked to be sure.

"Is it a _riyawa ya mapenzi?" _Kori hazarded. She had predicted as much before- and knew that both Jinx and Rachel remembered the phrase. When Rachel nodded, she beamed. A few minutes later (when they remembered that they had forgotten candles), she remembered to explain to Richard- who had guessed as much.

"Is birthday pie even legal?" Richard teased, trying to put the eighteenth candle through the beleaguered pastry. "It's a good thing we're just using eighteen- it can't hold much more."

"If the birthday girl doesn't like cake that much, it's legal," Victor decided. "Besides- who can resist pie? It's apple. There's nothing wrong with apple pie."

"It doesn't have frosting," Kori noted, trying to find something wrong with something that smelled delicious.

"We could fix that- but apple pie's gooey enough as it is," Gar said, giving the pie a critical look. "And no frosting on mine- I'll be a traditionalist about pie. My parents wouldn't allow whipped cream near pie, and I inherited that much- it's ice cream on the side or plain pie."

"Ice cream would be most satisfactory." Kori had no more protests against how official pie was as a substitute, so she handed the lighter to Victor.

"Why don't I get to light the candles?" Richard asked.

"Because you have already impaled the poor thing multiple times," Kori scolded. "Victor can light it on fire- and you can be in charge of fire at my birthday."

Victor lit the candles on the birthday pie, Gar led the unabashedly off-key rendition of the birthday song, Kori tried unsuccessfully to remember the Polish version she had heard once, Rachel blew out all the clumped candles ("That's why birthday pie is illegal- it's too easy." "Hush, Richard- no wishing bad luck for her wish."), and they followed a dessert of pie with two delivered pizzas. ("Doesn't the saying go 'life is short, eat dessert first?' That sounds a bit morbid." "We shall make a new saying, Victor- eat dessert first because it is most pleasing." "Kori, it's no fair that you took lessons from Rachel in keeping a straight face, because I know you're about to laugh.").

Jinx made a late appearance, claiming the last piece of birthday pie and two slices of pizza. "All systems go, general," she reported with a lackadaisical salute. "Slade says he's ready, Trigon thinks you're having a last night with the friends, and- such a shame- the police just had a complete success in some operation of theirs. You know some sloppy underling and twenty-six people got caught by the police today without a shot fired? Almost like some hotshot revoked his weapons allowances for drawing too much attention with that drive-by attempt last week."

"That drive-by that he has an alibi for?" Rachel asked. "I think it is- pity that the staged drive-by was meant to frame him, and it wasn't just paranoia that time. After all, with how many times he's fudged reports- how was I supposed to know he really had a watertight reason he didn't do what I had someone else fake."

"So, we're on schedule?" Gar asked. He had heard details of this before, and still was amazed at just how it had worked out- exactly as Rachel planned. He could be amazed without doubting her- he was managing pretty well.

"All that's going to do fine," Rachel said. "We have more important things to do."

"That's right- Rachel, you're facing the winner, since you're birthday girl. Kori beat Richard," Victor said, ignoring a mock-grumble from Richard, "and I creamed Gar, as you observed in round one. So, as soon as I show Kori how this fighting game is won, you'll be facing off for movie-choosing rights."

Rachel used her favorite strategy. She watched her video-game character as if it was an interesting movie, while pressing various sequences of buttons that she wouldn't bother to learn. Instead, she attempted to remember just which of the controls had produced that back-flip move that Victor hadn't expected- he had beat Kori, by just a few points. Kori was a good sport- she used the opportunity to get the rest of the ice cream.

Rachel was fairly sure that Victor let her win- but still smiled when the tinny announcers voice declared Player 2 the winner. She looked through the selection of movies available, pausing for dramatic effect with an outstretched hand over movies that Kori had borrowed from her sister just to tease with. The looks on the guys' faces when she stopped at _Sleepless in Seattle _and _While You Were Sleeping- _Victor definitely had let her win, with that expression. Then, she found a different movie, producing it with a magician's flourish.

_Spiderman 2_ went over much better. Explosions, plot, comedy, action, someone balancing an odd set of extracurricular activities and schoolwork, some romance- what else did a movie need?

Rachel woke early, yawning and stretching the one arm not entangled in arms and legs and bodies. She moved carefully, extricating first her left arm, and then her legs. She moved up the stairs, not making a sound, and made her way to the backyard. It was a perfect morning for a sunrise- just a few clouds stretched across the east horizon, turning orange and pink and purple with the growing light. She heard someone else come out of the house, moving differently than Gar. Too light for Victor, she didn't think it was Kori- she wasn't surprised when Richard stood beside her to watch the sunset.

"Come to make sure I'm never alone?" she asked, not thinking about the words escaping her. She didn't have to, with friends.

"No. I just don't know if I'll be able to fit in a serious talk later, but, just from me to you…"

She waited.

"You're not betraying him, Rachel. He tried to make you someone you're not. Even if he can't understand, you need to do this."

"I know." It still seemed that there was something wrong with the idea.

They didn't need any further words. Instead, they finished watching the sunrise, and she left her last regrets about going against her father in that backyard. One of her most pressing internal conflicts was resolved. Once she went back to her father's home, she would have external conflicts to deal with- but that would come later. First, she would try something else that was new- something as harmless as waffles.


	60. The End

_I know that the gap between chapters is getting far, far too long, but I will have another project after this (the beginning is in the works and has been for some time. It's- never mind, I'll talk about it sometime I'm not on bad-author probation for making you wait so long). The next chapters won't take as long- they won't be as bothersome to write, and I have the plot drawn out in pretty hard to erase pencil. (A few bits might be short- but that will mean that they will be out soon. I plan to have the next chapters move at a decent pace.) In real life, this is my first chapter with my lovely new assistant, a MacBook, and I've moved into university housing- on the best floor ever. All I'll say- the west wing never was this good._

**Chapter Sixty: The End  
**"You're making waffles?"

She frowned. "Is it that hard to guess?"

"Not really," Gar said, surveying the kitchen and subtly changing the setting on the waffle griddle. Dark, dark, burnt-batter brown was a lovely color, but it wouldn't suit waffles. Of course, with the way the batter was progressing, that wasn't the only small issue. Kori peered over his shoulder. "The waffle griddle is a very good first clue," he said, making a very good effort to not look too dubious at the batter. He had adjusted the griddle.

Kori eased her way next to Rachel. Within a few friendly suggestions, Rachel relinquished control of the whisk and Kori was in pitched battle against lumps of powder in the battle. Richard was quickly drafted by Kori into finding more ingredients. She had been beginning to cook at her house regularly, and wasn't fond of the pedantic following of recipes. Instead, she "guesstimated," as Gar insisted was the proper term, and called for vegetable oil, two eggs, and a pitcher of cream.

Rachel felt she should be taking notes. She looked from the growing supply of waffle batter to the box she had set aside before other people had become interested in her culinary attempts. She was going straight from the box. Mix two cups batter with one and a third cups of water, stir slowly until only small lumps remained, fry in griddle on highest setting until edges begin to crisp. The 'complete' mix, according to the label, insisted that only water was needed. She shrugged, completing an internal debate. She wouldn't interfere. Kori and Gar were having far more fun with the more complicated version. Rachel was not completely sure in her cooking ability, and wouldn't try to win back the kitchen.

She and Victor watched for a minute before, inevitably, Victor started making bacon- throwing a few strips of "that nasty tofu stuff Gar's digestive track likes" in a separate pan. He could accept that someone with a few medical issues might have problems with meat. He could even cook such items. He would not, however, allow such things to mingle with perfectly good bacon.

Kori and Gar might take awhile. They had followed Richard upstairs to find some other vital ingredient or other. Rachel rescued a still-clean bowl from being a part of the growing culinary experiment, reset the griddle, stirred until only small lumps were left, and followed the directions on the back to produce six waffles. That prompted Jinx to meander over to the kitchen and pour orange juice, her contribution for the morning.

It was some kind of sacrilege to waste waffle batter, so Gar and Kori and Richard's fancy waffles were made- and would be eaten for quite a few days, to finish all of them. Rachel couldn't keep a straight face when Kori and Gar pressed for some secret of the kitchen. Instead, she introduced them with a smile to a wonder of modern baking and cooking for the not very ambitious: mixes came in boxes. When directions were more or less followed, results were easy. She had found a recipe in a cookbook, but she had learned through observation of Kori's experiments that a short recipe with pictures might be wiser.

Rachel didn't suggest presents. That would be rude, and entirely too forward. She did, however, agree with more enthusiasm than expected- Gar had been trying to draw her off to the side for some serious talk or other, and she wasn't ready. Serious talks would mean thinking about everything, and she wanted to leave that for at least a few more minutes. Jinx handed over her present first, mostly to stop people from trying to decide who would be first. Rachel would talk to Gar, later- for the moment she had a moment to worry just what Jinx would find funny when she opened a small package to find a necklace.

"It's beautiful," she said, surprised she actually liked it. The design was in crystals that caught the light and glinted in all colors. Rachel gave the necklace a suspicious look. It would go almost a little too well with a certain dress. "Did Kori tell you, or did you go closet-diving?"

"I went closet-diving at Kori's suggestion," Jinx said, unperturbed. "You know it will go perfectly with that dress, and that I'll get you into it come prom-time."

Rachel glared. Gar wasn't asking, probably just because it was her birthday and she'd have enough stress later. "We can talk about prom dresses and such the day before the event. I'm sure it will be a boring occasion. The best time I've ever had at a school dance involved leaving very, very early," she said, pretending to glare at Kori while she gauged Gar's reaction- she hadn't thought he had forgotten that.

"We'll show her that dress I told you about," Kori soothed.

Rachel smiled, a little too happily. Jinx looked from one to the other. "I'm not even going to ask. I have enough to worry about, today- and Kori, you might as well put your present out next."

Rachel had a pretty definite idea that the present was prom-related, if Jinx had sprung for that theme. She was right. She just hadn't expected shoes. She leaned back into the curved leather couch, a recent addition to the basement. Richard, Victor, Gar, and Jinx agreed that it could probably fit six linebackers. Rachel wasn't sure all the egos could exist that close together, Kori still was learning sports terminology. Since Richard still was attempting to explain the infamous infield fly rule that he didn't quite understand, they knew to not discuss American football just yet.

"What's this dress you're trying to match like?" Gar asked.

"You'll see," Kori said evasively. "Those shoes, though, will match it."

"These shoes don't look quite like shoes." Rachel turned one in her hand.

"Nonsense- that heel has a wide base, and the top part is silk." The shoes looked a bit like sandals, and certainly weren't the usual pumps- but Kori wasn't matching just any dress. "These come with a condition."

"And what would that be?"

"The week before prom, you come to all the necessary appointments with me- don't give me that look, you're at least getting your hair and nails done."

Rachel agreed, reluctantly, and Kori beamed as she began to coerce Jinx into a similar agreement. Rachel didn't like being a spectacle, so she unwrapped Victor's present quickly- an MP3 player with a tough plastic skin in deep, deep violet.

"You're going to be around Trigon for a few days, but that will come through just fine," Victor said. "That thing is battle-tested, not that it should come down to it- but it won't break. You can count on that."

She smiled, because that was the closest he would come to a motivational speech, and opened something from Richard- a thin bunch of notebook paper stapled together and written in the script that couldn't decide between being a scrawl and block lettering. She read through the first few lines, wondering why Richard's writing was unusually messy- but then she understood, even before she flipped to the end to look at a more personal note.

"This is- Richard, this is amazing and I promise that you'll get it back."

"What is it?" Victor asked.

"This is a comprehensive listing of little facts about Slade and Trigon," Rachel said, reading through only the first few lines, as a smile spread across her face. "His dad must have written it- my mom mentioned a few of the things that happened." She would read the rest at night, when she had time to look through all the details. For that moment, she needed only the basic facts.

Gar waited until she had a free hand before handing over the last package, wrapped in bright paper in a large box a department store would use for sweaters.

She opened it carefully, just as she had done with the other presents- her mom's family had an old superstition about tearing paper. The fact that such a slow process of unwrapping let her delay going back was only a part of her decision to uphold tradition.

Inside, she found a small box that wasn't wrapped- a box made of cloth. She opened it, slowly, and found the end of a closed necklace. She pulled it from the box, gently- and found a ring dangling on the bright silver chain.

"Rings were the only jewelry my mom kept, but since one that isn't on a necklace is a little forward- Shelia said that this would be right."

"It is- and it's way better than just 'all right.'" she said, pulling her hair to the side. It finally was long enough that she could tie it back. As much as she disliked that, and was convinced that her thin ponytail just looked silly, she did not need hair in her eyes. He understood, and worked the clasp far more easily than she could have.

They spent an hour just talking, when she decided that there was no need to hurry, and Rachel toyed with the ring while she gathered her thoughts. This was it. An hour later, she gathered everything. The shoes she left in her room with the necklace Jinx had found, the MP3 player and notes went in her backpack, and the ring stayed with her. By some unspoken agreement, they didn't say goodbye. Instead, she hugged each of them- as a thank-you for the birthday present.

Gar was last, and pressed something into her hand without a word. She looked at it, and smiled. "Think I'll buy out the organization with a penny?" she murmured into his ear, not minding when he only held her closer. As long as they kept that conversation to body language, she would be okay.

"Not even you're that good of a saleswoman, Rae. You could sell ice to Alaskans, but Trigon's a little more expensive. That's for luck."

"Why 1964?"

"That penny was on the tile in the hospital. I stepped on it, slid, knocked over two chairs, cut my forehead, took out a gumball machine, and had all that witnessed by the most gossip-prone nurse in the hospital. With that much bad luck taken care of, it's just the best of luck for you left in there."

She could have pulled away, but didn't want to. She hadn't taken nearly as long with the others- but they had discreetly left to clean the breakfast dishes, so they obviously didn't mind. "I hope I don't need it."

"You can do this, Rae. You will. I know you can."

"This all could go so wrong so fast- I'm-" She stopped trying to find the perfect words. He still would understand. "I'm scared," she said, trying to not sound too plaintive.

"You'd be crazy not to be," he said matter-of-factly. "I'd be more nervous if you weren't afraid- fear is just your body's way of letting you know that something not so good is up. No matter what happens, Rae, we'll be there for you if you need us. We might not have a Batsignal- but you said that Jinx passed on to all your kind-of-good guys in Trigon's place about the code words."

She took a deep breath, remembering the feeling of being safe for even a moment. "Love you," she said, words shy.

"I love you, too, Rae- and when this is over, I'm personally going to make sure things work out. Since the feds probably will seize the house- Shelia said that if your mother even thinks of dialing a hotel, she will track both of you down and drag you over. It would be far better to call ahead so she could set extra places at dinner."

She left, then. He walked with her to the front door- and she reached for the necklace. However pretty the chain was, it was thin. She pulled, hard, too impatient to deal with the circular clasp, and caught the ring in her hand. She slid it onto her right ring finger- she had known it would fit, after feeling the inside. "Maybe we can have our own sort of promise," she said. "Forever is too much to think about- but we can at least vouch on a few years." She wouldn't mind a few centuries, but she could save that mush for later.

She drove home, in some new flashy car or other that she had looked at so balefully the guys had refrained from admiring whatever the import was. She didn't want to know. She had too many useful things to consider- one of them that her father asked her to be in the main garage in ten minutes. Jinx would join her in twenty minutes or so, to account for her excuse of some investigation or other. Rachel didn't need those details. She had her own part to play, and knew that Jinx could do her part.

She used seven minutes for light meditation, to make sure that she didn't spend her time pacing or fretting. One minute was spent cleaning the gun she had been practicing with, just in case, for the last month. Another minute was spent taking specially ordered ammunition from beneath the false bottom of a bureau drawer. She didn't let as much as a grim smile show as she loaded the gun quickly, with no particular feelings of regret. If she had to do it- she would. When everything came down to the line- they would understand. Gar had promised, in early conversations, and she believed him. She had told him just what it might come to- and he hadn't called her a monster. Instead, he had just held onto her like he never would need to let go.

She tied her hair back and took a few seconds to make sure the new feeling wouldn't distract her. Something so simple shouldn't, she knew- but she never had been through formal training, and wasn't going to mess up because a new hairstyle felt odd.

She made a fist of her right hand, feeling how the ring changed that, after attaching a holster to her jeans. If Trigon wanted her to be an open part of the deal, she was carrying a weapon. It was that simple- and she had the sinking feeling that he would approve. No matter what was right or wrong- he finally was acting somewhat like a vaguely paternal figure. He was making progress.

She was two minutes late, but that was a subtle reminder that she had been promised a partnership. She would respect him, perhaps- but she wasn't going to ask how high if he told her to jump. He'd need a pretty good reason why she was taking the time, and he finally knew that. So, when he had set up a time- he probably expected her to be a few minutes early or late. Partnerships needed compromise. He hadn't given detail, but she had thought that it would be just the two of him. She hadn't even walked through the door and she had made the mistake of assumption. Whatever was going on involved Slade- and she wasn't ready to deal with her probable conspirator against Trigon. Slade would sell her out for a dime, if it meant saving his own skin, and she knew it. That was why she took her time walking into the garage. If she had just barged in, perhaps it might have ended differently- but she had planned on this.

"Slade. Trigon." She was an adult, and he wasn't acting as her father. If he wanted to be partners, they would be partners. She wasn't interested in making the affair at all resemble a family business. She had heard them from the hallway, and neither was raising his voice. "Why is there a problem?"

"He wants a raise," Trigon said.

"I believe it fitting," Slade countered, looking only at Trigon even as he spoke to Rachel. "With just how much high-profile information I could divulge at inopportune moments…"

"You are not going to blackmail me, Slade," Rachel said directly. "My father and I are partners. In this industry, it is idiotic to trust anyone as far as you can throw them. Considering that you both are bigger than me, I took precautions. Should Trigon betray me, Slade will hopefully choose my side- and I know that he took the same measures. Should you prove to be an irritation, I will stay with Trigon. Simple, isn't it?" She had her father's approval, and didn't care one bit. She was all grown up, and she was watching Slade- she knew that he had a gun and that he was faster.

"Rachel, I don't know whether to be hurt or proud," Trigon said, smile proving his choice. He never had been good at faking facial expressions. If he was angry, everyone would know it.

"Try-" She lost whatever sarcastic comment had come to mind when she saw Slade's hand move in a distinctive motion. "Slade, concealed weapons only work if no one knows that you keep one at your side."

"If you both have made alliances, perhaps it would be best to seek other opportunities- but it seems that Trigon has been most remiss in protocol. He didn't take his firearm from the office, since he just was going to meet his daughter."

Rachel kept her distance. They were already moving towards each other, with the conflict in interests that had been long in coming. Slade knew that his plans would not work out. For the first time, Rachel heard him raise his voice above the eerie control that seemed to go beyond necessity- and Trigon was thundering. He and Slade both were yelling, and her father yelled at her when she moved a little closer- they were out of control. She couldn't see who threw the first punch- but she knew that the fight wouldn't last long.

Slade's hand moved. She knew that gesture, and even just what his elbow always did- she never had noticed that before reading what Richard's dad had so carefully recorded. (Perhaps he had been at a bad angle- that sign was clear as day. Slade was drawing a gun. This was not going as planned.)

Other people were running into the room, yelling and frightened and adding to the echoes that rang through the empty garage- a favored meeting place because it was very hard to sneak into, and was neutral territory. There was chaos, and the sharp choruses of words faded into meaningless nonsense.

_Just like a movie. _That was all she had time to think before a sharper gunshot stopped all the speech, echoing from the bare cement walls even after there was the quiet sound of a body hitting the ground.


	61. The End: Part Two

_After this story, I will be finishing up a few neglected projects before moving to the next idea. (The next idea- which will (very, very, very likely) not be this insanely long- involves the superpowers, since I miss them. Without them- well, sometimes you just want changes to animals, starbolts, explosions, cannons, and anything that isn't (and some things that are) bolted to the ground being used as a weapon. That may be awhile in coming, but it's fleshing out.)_

**Chapter Sixty-One: The End: Part Two  
**"Barbara, we have another 280."

She looked away from the computer screen without pausing to finish one last word in a report. Her vision had been starting to blur, and even what the precinct called a 280 would be a welcome distraction. "The usual block?" she asked, one hand leaving the keyboard to tuck an irritating lock of hair behind an ear.

"On Roosevelt Avenue, so yes. An off-duty cop was the one to see it- luckily, he's undercover. Even if the person involved had known all the cops, there wouldn't have been a problem- but Jameson says that the person he talked to didn't seem too dangerous. He said that she was very friendly, and not very clandestine about the fact that she was on a 280."

"A friendly female was bringing a dead body down the street?"

"She had some sort of wheeled cart that she was pulling down the sidewalk, bolder than brass or twice as stupid, and didn't seem very worried to be caught."

"What's her description?"

"Pink hair. He left a full report, but I think that should do it."

"It does," Barbara said, tapping her left index finger and wondering if typing obscenities aided stress. What was Jinx doing? Jinx had promised to call before anything that would result in a police report. She could understand that Jinx might have some sort of time crunch- but Barbara needed to have some warning. "You're new to this district, Robert, but you'll learn exactly what pink hair usually means- did he mention her as Jinx?"

"He did, but that was in a different section," Robert Walker said, fumbling through the odd style of reporting that was as unfamiliar as the typeface on his badge.

Barbara wasn't irritated with the new recruit, for once. She had been in a good mood the entire day- maybe because Tim was taking her out to dinner, and her six hour shift that would be over in ten minutes. "What other details were there? Any way to ID the body, where did she go, did he follow- that kind of stuff."

"He didn't threaten or detain her, and all the legal-ese on the report is just nonsense. So, he had some reason to not bring her into the station."

"Right," Barbara said. She could spend at least twenty minutes showing Robert the ropes. He was a nice kid, it would benefit the station, and it meant that she could leave the dreary report she had been filing for another time. She wasn't silly enough to hope she would get out of work on time, but she just might make it down the ramp out front before the sun set. "You've only been working here for- what, three days?"

"Two, technically, but I came in the day before that for an interview."

"We don't wait very long. The chief either likes you, decides to give you a probationary chance after you guessed she was a secretary, or tells you on the way out the front door that she recommends a different precinct," she said, all business. She remembered this interviewee. His only notice of the wheels was to volunteer to move a sealed box to the evidence room, when he noticed the bulky thing was encroaching on her desk space. Now, for the important questions- "How much do you know about Trigon?"

"Organized crime boss, operates out of this precinct, and has reportedly chosen a successor."

"Very good, very good- research?"

"My aunt lives in the area."

"Close enough," Barbara said. "The pink-haired girl works for the successor, and is the second-best source of information I have. The first is the successor herself, the third is a tie between the two surveillance heads over in that area. Oddest couple you'll ever see- but hopefully, we won't be working around Trigon for much longer. I have been filing a few unofficial motions to get a couple pardons in- with what they're doing, they deserve a medal."

"Do you always tell new recruits all this?" he asked.

"You are sharp," she said, nodding approvingly. "No, I don't. I do, however, tell the ones who show too much of an interest in Trigon. Your uncle was a good man, but Trigon was cleared of suspicion two years ago. Last month, we confirmed that whatever happened in that car accident, Trigon was not involved."

"You're sharper."

"If you're expecting me to blush or play coy, don't. I make my living being sharper than most. Especially the fresh meat-heads who think that they know their way around a departmental report," she said, with a smile that proved she was (mostly) kidding. "Let's go over the facts for a retrieve in this town. Jinx mentioned something about a signal, and that's why protocol wasn't followed. Otherwise, any officer would have stopped her. We're operating under different protocol, and we have the FBI around without official regalia just yet. They're waiting until it's safe enough to go in without any loss of life."

"They faked a dead body?" Robert had never heard such a thing.

"That was the plan. Jinx mentioned finding an accomplice, and settled on Mammoth. He looks dangerous enough, is visible, and can stay still for a long time. Since that was tentative, the officer just knows that Jinx is moving through some piece of safety-net planning," she explained. "Our reports are different, even normally- start at the top. I'll work you through it. The actual incident comes last, but that's just a new way of filing.

"The officer didn't identify the supposed body as Mammoth," Robert said, after looking through the report during the explanation and glancing through the neatly written incident report.

"Well, she might have had to improvise," Barbara said.

"With a gunshot wound?"

"What?" Barbara had not heard this detail, and he was on the other side of her desk. She told herself that even if she could reach across the desk to snatch the report, she would just send stacks of paper all around the room and have to pick them up. It still wasn't very comforting.

"It's just like you said- subject positively identified as Slade Wilson, even in dialogue with suspect. Cause of death was the gunshot wound to the chest- she said plans changed when Slade was going to kill Trigon."

"I need you to- go and make me some copies," she said. "Of that report. Both sides. Twenty copies- no, better make that fifteen, but typed up. Borrow Scott's office- he always forgets to turn his computer off."

"We had a little policy in my last district. Busywork usually results in a question or two, if I have a problem with the copy machine- but if you'd like me to go sweep the evidence room for awhile, that's under surveillance. I won't touch anything, the floor's a mess, and my shift's over at eight. You need me for something else, great. If not- it's just about as exciting as copies."

She smiled, even as she pounded a number into her secure line. "Thank you very much, Robert. You definitely are going to make it past probation- I'll see to it. The unofficial lieutenant is all-seeing, not all-liking- but you just made it to her favorites list."

"Why unofficial?" he asked.

"The last lieutenant sold out to Trigon," she said tightly, remembering the officer who had been a part of the department for longer than she had. "The next time I share a shift with you, I hope to not have any emergencies- but the evidence room is in need of an in-depth cleaning."

He took the hint. Even then, she waited until she heard the door close before hitting SEND as hard as her newly manicured fingernails would allow. She didn't know why she had ever been talked into them- except that her friends were adamant that she would have her nails done for a wedding, so adjustment now would only be one less thing to do later.

"Richard," she said into the phone, her tone making it clear that she was not calling for a friendly chat. "What in the name of all that is legal is going on in the Roth household?"

"Plans changed," he said, far too easily. "I just know the basics- Rachel's still on the phone with Gar. He's here, too, but I'm not interrupting them unless you really need to talk to him."

"Would you prefer to put your uncle on the phone?"

He hadn't been subjected to the Oracle-growl since when he was stupider. Looking back, he couldn't tell what he had been thinking- but now, he knew a little better. He also knew that angering Oracle was a bad, bad idea. "No. Sorry, Oracle- wasn't sure just what was getting around. I can tell you the whole story as I know it."

"That would be nice."

He winced. He was definitely not going to be in the good books for awhile, unless he did some fast appeasing. When Barbara was mad, she tended to share her anger equally. Richard just would get extra. Questioning how this worked was not a good idea- and he didn't need to test that hypothesis. Basic science. Some hypotheses weren't worth testing. If he made Oracle madder, then he would not be happy.

Only about eight laws he could think of had been broken. "Okay, first- it's not always what it looks like. That was one of the first things you told me, when I asked you about detective work. Second, this probably only involves eight felonies. Third- you're calling from work. We can discuss this without resorting to cute code names?"

"Start talking. Quickly and coherently. I'm taking notes, and you will be on the phone to answer questions. Then, you will get Garfield on the phone- and Rachel, if she can call me. Once I know what's happening with this situation, you will tell me all future plans, plausible and otherwise. Understood?"

"Understood."

"Now, since things never are as they look when it involves teenagers who dress in spandex as a hobby- spill."

Richard pressed the speakerphone button. Sometimes, going in alone was just asking for something to go wrong- it was a good thing they weren't let Rachel face the end without backup. Trigon should be more of a threat than Oracle, he thought- he just decided that it wasn't prudent to mention that to anyone. He kept back a smile- he really wasn't in his stupider days any longer. "Kori? Victor?" Backup was always a good idea. "Would you like to help me explain this to Oracle?"


	62. The End: Part Three

_A note: killing the author now will just mean you won't know how this ends. Everything following does have a logical explanation, I promise. There even was a touch of foreshadowing for the bit that is most likely to have people up in arms- but I'm sure that you would all prefer a full explanation from the characters. _

_Just in case anyone has forgotten- the Teen Titans? Not mine, even if I have borrowed them and many, many plot threads from the show to twist to suit my own nefarious purposes. I also do not own the wonderful Lord of the Rings soundtrack, which (along with much ranting to/support from Kayasuri-N and dr.evil99 about various points and bits of nonsense) got this chapter running. (Looking for the right song? Fellowship of the Ring, The Breaking of the Fellowship- that whole soundtrack is good stuff for writing.)_

**Chapter Sixty-two: The End: Part Three**  
Rachel knew that it was too late to turn back.

She knew it before her father heard from a disbelieving member of the organization. Rachel should have known, that the one loose end in a plan that had taken weeks to fully implement would be some tiny detail she couldn't anticipate. Of all things- it was someone that actually was not out to commit a crime. The man had been walking through a neighborhood, stretching his legs as he spoke with his parole officer. The woman had an excellent reputation for making her convicts not repeat old convictions. Even her influence didn't stop a final comment to one of the few people that Rachel hadn't sent away. That rumor had made it to Trigon.

For the last two days, she had been very carefully sending most employees on missions to other areas. The official rationale was that she was increasing the scope of their enterprise. In reality, every last person had been captured andjailed in special holding cells that had no contact with the outside world, and all arranged hearings still would be in a few days. She had effectively crippled a criminal empire from the inside out, with no apparent signs. Everything would have worked out just right, if only she had a few more hours without that report reaching her father.

"Rachel."

That was his best criminal-boss voice, but she wasn't scared of him. Not anymore. Just that morning, his hand on her shoulder had been as warm as his voice as he asked about the (fictional) New Mexico project. Now, he knew that she had lied, just because someone had walked down the street.

She waited, circling a wary five feet from him as she carefully moved away. She needed more space. He knew, now, but she wouldn't ask. They both knew exactly what he was talking about. Now, she just had to wonder if he needed proof-

But he held one of those bullets she had ordered so long ago, and that would be enough.

He had heard, from his usual small network she had been circumventing, about one key person walking down the sidewalk. He should not have heard, but he had. There were no second chances. Slade had been spotted on a sidewalk.

He clenched his fist. The thin aluminum shell was crushed. The pressurized compartment inside did just what it should, just what the people behind the most realistic of paint gun battles had promised.

The thin outside metal crumpled. Blood spurted from Trigon's fist, but he wasn't harmed. Anyone expecting the small impact could easily pretend to be dead while the theatre-quality fake blood spurted, then later walk away with only a bruise to show. Rachel had not wanted to use such a messy, jerky plan- but Slade had insisted that he needed to come in later. Now, no one but a parolee catching up on rumors had been surprised by a return from nowhere. She wondered just what would happen, now- and her hand strayed to a gun loaded with live ammunition. Delaying now would help nothing.

"Rachel," he said calmly, dropping the crushed piece of aluminum to the floor. The small tinkle barely made an echo at all. "I believe that our partnership can be considered terminated."

She had her gun leveled at 'considered.' "That is a peculiar choice of words," she said. It took years of experience to keep her voice steady. This time- it wasn't fake. This was the real thing, and she was terrified. How could she- to save herself, she would. It would make her as bad as he was- but sometimes staying alive was more important.

"You would shoot an unarmed man?"

"Not if he was without weapons," she bluffed. "Put the gun over to the side and we'll talk."

She successfully kept her jaw from dropping when he did so, but it was a hard effort. This was it. This was that final confrontation she never would have dreamed coming to- and she had the bleak feeling that they couldn't both go on. He wanted her to be someone else, and she couldn't lose her friends. That would destroy her more than she thought even pulling a trigger could- nothing was certain except that this could not end happily. He actually had done it. Trigon had tossed aside his gun.

She skimmed her gun across the floor, sending it spinning far across the room. She didn't watch to see where it stopped. She watched her father, and knew from his stance that they would fight. One last fight- she only had time to think that fathers and daughters should only fight about curfews and boyfriends before she blocked a punch. Block with her open palm, twist to avoid a foot, kick and land a glancing contact on the outside thigh.

If Slade didn't come through as promised, she thought distantly as she ducked a heavy punch that made a threatening hiss in the air, she would be in quite a bit of trouble, lucky penny in her pocket or no. The ring on her finger scratched him when she landed a punch, drawing a tiny red line, but she wasn't doing much damage alone. _Come on, guys. Any time now. _

**.Ten Minutes Before.**  
"Slade, you're late," Jinx said sharply.

"Being dead is positively exhausting," he deadpanned.

"Very droll." The look on Jinx's face proved she thought he was anything but. "You are four minutes behind schedule- and you just passed someone out on parole."

"Does that really matter, or are you trying to dispel your nervousness through a new display of being pedantic?"

"Shove it." Jinx glanced at her four companions. She still didn't know how Richard and Slade could really work together- except that Slade and Richard both would benefit in fighting against Trigon. "Slade, you're heading in first. You know where the rat-warrens of tunnels leads, and I don't trust you as far as Angela could throw you."

"Such a ringing endorsement- but do not think that I care what you say. I can take one of you, and one only."

"Cut the crap, Slade." Jinx did not particularly care that her language was rude. She had more important things to focus on. "Yes, we want to all go, and yes, we're all going. Gizmo is running the surveillance tapes. We all can go through," she said, eyes narrowed. She had left her contacts out, for the day, as if blue eyes could be more effective than pink. She wasn't going to risk anything, not even the near-impossibility of poking herself in the eye in just the wrong way. "Today, of all days, do not mess with me. I don't care what your usual issues are. I don't care how patently unreliable you are. I am here to make sure that we get there, and we get there fast."

Slade took the lead, with Kori behind him. She had an extending staff in her hand, and she shifted her grip as she watched Slade. Victor was behind her, watching for any signs of something amiss, and Gar and Richard walked together. Kori and Victor had made the small suggestion- they knew the two people most emotional about working with Slade to go find Rachel, and Jinx was behind to watch them.

"When we go in," Jinx said softly, when they were inside Trigon's house, "it's a simple plan. If Rachel needs help, Gar gets her out. Fast. Everyone else goes on the offensive."

"When was it determined that you were calling the shots?" Slade enquired.

"When Rachel gave me your old job, jackass," Jinx said pleasantly. It was no place for such pettiness, of course- but she had wanted to call Slade a similar name for a long time. "Would you like to debate this, or head the last twenty feet? You know the terms. Trigon leaves Rachel alone, she leaves you alone."

"Head in," Jinx said after a moment with no further retaliation. She kept fears that they already were too late to herself- but Victor caught her eye, and she knew he understood. They were doing it. All of that was said in a moment- concerned look, smile, answering grin. Love wasn't some magical idea that made everything perfect- but it sure did improve silent conversation.

**.Three Minutes Before.**  
She might have been a little faster, or a little more agile- but that wouldn't make a difference. She had not been able to contemplate ending this with a lucky gunshot- but maybe this was just as definite an ending.

The horseless cavalry should have come in two minutes ago, when he had swept her legs out from under her. Someone should have come running in to save her, of course- but they hadn't, so she had recovered by herself and rolled away. She would not fall for that trick again- she had learned that by herself. People didn't fight like this anymore- but it didn't seem like her father really wanted to get her out of the way. She was almost certain he had held back the punch just under her cheekbone. That would develop into a lovely bruise, later- unless he came through with a kick. He might not be in the best shape of his life, but he still could beat Slade any day of the week and twice on Thursdays. Slade and Richard were even, Richard could beat her nineteen times in twenty, and she never had beat Slade. She abandoned statistics. Sometimes, it was just better to rely on a little skill and a lot of dumb luck.

The fight was starting to get repetitive. There hadn't been many dirty tricks just yet- but that would change. There only were so many ways to kick and punch, and blocking was taking just as much energy- for her, at least. He had the advantage of being bigger. Trusting in her dumb luck rule, she didn't try to figure out just how much bigger he was.

Dumb luck (for him, not for her) accounted for a few people stopping by at the wrong (for her, not for him) moment. She wasn't doing very well, and they didn't know that she had backup coming (soon, she hoped). They saw that Trigon and his partner were fighting- and they decided that joining the winning side would be a good idea. That was when she started to have trouble- because even if Trigon barked orders to not shoot, there were three of them. That meant that she was trying to face four people. The fight was in the middle of the room- space was good, when dealing with just one person. When surrounded, she needed to have the wall at her back. They weren't letting that happen, surprisingly enough. Dumb luck worked better with rock-headed opponents.

The three other people weren't fighters, really. If she had been fighting them, they would have been unconscious. They couldn't use their guns, and still were uncomfortable with the change in plans. It was a close fight- and Trigon had forbidden it. With Trigon to fight, she wasn't doing very well. One of them was out cold. The other two weren't the most skilled, perhaps, but it isn't very hard to punch. She threw one over her hip when he came too close, but the partial second took in doing that gave Trigon an opening. He was starting to aim for pressure points.

She started using dirty tricks as soon as the flipped man was up again, but that wasn't going to do much good. She was debating a somewhat insane style of fighting that would leave her either very, very sore the next morning or not around when she saw two goons go down. At the same time. From two different staffs using the same move- she saw Richard and Slade.

"Took you long enough," she said, taking a few steps back. Richard spared a second to form a distracted half-smile- he would take care of it. Trigon's reinforcements had just come running in. Of the twenty-two people left, fifteen would probably take Trigon's side, if a choice came out. They were still a bit too intimidated by him to think of a change. Three were down- and nine had just ran in. Trigon must have activated one of the silent alarms, or maybe one of the three who had first arrived- but it didn't matter. Kori, Jinx, and Victor were there.

Kori took three on her own, fending them off with the staff. Jinx and Victor handled anyone that wasn't flanking Trigon. Anyone near Trigon was by Slade or Richard- who looked eerily similar, in fighting, but she didn't focus on that. She hadn't seen one person- but that was because he was staying beside her, not heading towards the fight.

"You're sitting this one out?" she asked, a little breathless. He had hugged her so hard that she had been reminded of Kori- and that she had a few ribs that were probably cracked. Now that she wasn't fighting- she took a quick inventory of her injuries. Her ankle wasn't completely up to supporting her weight, pressure had confirmed that a few ribs were cracked, there definitely would be bruising, and she had a split lip.

"I'm playing bodyguard."

"Then no more hugs like that, okay?" she said, avoiding a repeat hug. "Cracked ribs, here."

"Rae, I'm-"

"Don't even say sorry. I could have mentioned it, I didn't- but you could lend shoulders, here. I don't think they need our help, and you don't need to go be a knight in shining armor over there. You're more helpful over here right now."

"Any perquisites available?"

"In the historical sense, or in the sense that you're trying to sound a touch medieval in your usual overdose of chivalry and won't say 'perks' like anyone else?" she asked, as if part of her attention wasn't on a fight.

"Um- both?"

"In the historical sense, that would mean that something or other has been useful and is being passed to a subordinate of some sort. Since all I really would want to pass on is the gun that's somewhere over to our right- didn't have time to look earlier, but it's over by the door- I think we'll go with the modern version."

"Have I ever told you that I love it when you sound like a thesaurus?"

She paused, giving the thought serious consideration even when she smiled a little. The fight's end result was clear. She could relax for a few seconds. "No. I don't believe that you have."

"Well- I do."

She gave him a speculative frown after he kissed her. "I don't think that the blood transfer counts as a perk- but we could save that for a time when there isn't a fight going on." She wiped the dab of blood away with her knuckle. Split lips never bled for long, and hers would stop soon. "Did Jinx find you on time?"

"She was early, Slade was late, and she went drill sergeant- if she hadn't been dead serious, I think someone would have laughed. Slade actually said something about how tiring being dead was."

"He and Trigon would have come to blows," Rachel said. "I couldn't afford that- if I didn't have Slade at least appearing to be on my side, I wouldn't have been able to start the whole mess. With him 'dead'- I didn't have to worry about confrontations, and I still had the correct reputation with the employees. The idea lost its main goal when a parolee saw a 'dead' Slade walking down the street- but it did work very well for two days."

"Oracle almost went ballistic, when that plan happened. Luckily, she focused on Richard. I was busy talking to you, so he had to talk very, very fast with Kori and Victor helping him out to avoid Oracle coming over in person to get the story. Since she had some sort of dinner planned with the fiancé, that would have been bad."

"Did he follow the chief commandment of vigilantism in Forston?"

"'Thou shalt appease the wrath of Oracle?' Yes. He did, and then he gave her quite a few other possible details to make sure that he wouldn't have the wrath of Oracle again."

"She's coming?"

"She's outside with police. As soon as Trigon's out- which is going to be hard, since the guy that just ran in brought a pair of staffs and seems to know how to use his- we have a plan that wasn't part of the dossier. Anyway- when Trigon's out, priority switches to Slade. Alliances around here tend to be shady- and it's all us, anyway. I don't think you really wanted to let him skip town."

"No, but it does work much better, coming from Richard." She didn't feel attached to the melee. She had done her part, and it was enough.

"Your ankle looks a bit banged up." He couldn't see her ankle, but he could see that she was leaning her weight to the left a bit.

"It feels banged up," she admitted, watching the fight. She should feel more concerned, but she just felt empty. "I feel like I want to just sleep for a week, until all this is over. It's so weird, to think that this is going to change everything- I should feel more."

"Don't get yourself stuck there. You feel just right, for you, and no one can say different."

She let a smile start. She didn't have to hide what she felt anymore. "Thanks. I-"

If someone asked her to name the moment it all went south, that would have been it. Slade moved back, fast, and drew a gun. Trigon had a weapon out a second later. _Shit, _was Rachel's less-than-polite thought. She followed that with something a little more shocked. _That whole time- he wanted a fair fight, or at least as fair as it gets._

"Richard!" she yelled, remembering everything it took to get people to listen and forcing it into two syllables. "Kori! Get out of the way!" Trigon and Slade were aiming at each other, but they had more than one shot. A second's distraction might not make them lose. Victor and Jinx were already moving back.

Jinx was moving back, but not getting out of the way. Jinx met Rachel's eyes, and Rachel knew that Jinx was doing something crazy. When Jinx did something crazy- Rachel turned her attention to Richard without hesitation. It usually was a good kind of craziness. No one else would think of it, but Jinx did it and did it "damn well," to quote her. Gar felt her tense, and he had to know why- he could see whatever Jinx was up to, and just how Victor looked as he tried not to draw attention to her. Gar could sympathize with not knowing how on earth to help, except to not get in her way.

"It won't work, Slade," Trigon said. "Who really will support you, even if you pull that trigger? Dutch, Hall," he snapped at two employees who had recovered from a tap on the head. There was always an advantage to hiring thick-headed people. "Cover him. He even looks like he's going to blink funny, shoot."

Slade didn't show any reaction. "So, I'll have one shot- unless you'd like to take care of the matter now, and hope that I won't take my chance where I can?" He surveyed the room, and found a target. "I think you know where my chance would lie," he threatened.

Trigon didn't look- but he saw Angela from the corner of his eye. Was she- she was picking up Rachel's gun, as if she could hit the floor she was standing on. Brave fool of a woman- "Angela love, if you ever make one shot in your life, it would be perfect if you would shoot that sorry SOB."

"My target would be elsewhere. The police outside could undoubtedly take care of you," Slade said, and Trigon saw his tenseness too late. Slade had chosen a target, and he had relaxed his hand-

_thud CLANG_

Jinx rubbed her wrist. It turned out that staff had been a bit more tricky than she had thought, and that throwing it probably had been a bit of overkill- but she hadn't wanted six feet of gleaming metal to show in Slade's peripheral vision. Slade was flat on the floor, and she hadn't startled the armed goons. She had been a bit worried that Dutch and Hall would shoot if startled- but Trigon might be inclined to defend her, after taking Slade down

"I should have known his head was hollow- did you hear that thud?" she asked. The following impact of metal against the cement floor had given her the expected sound.

"Back off, Jinx. I'm finishing this," Trigon growled.

Rachel was at his side, fury overriding any relief that the bizarre Mexican standoff was finished. "Don't you dare," she hissed, her voice too low and too intense to be anything but a low exhalation. "Dutch. Hall." Her voice was brittle, clipping off each syllable. "Put those guns down." She had a communicator that Gar had let her take, and pressed the side button. "Oracle. Slade is unconscious."

"Copy that, Raven. Retrieval squad on the way- and anyone with a gun up will be considered a hostile."

"Hear that?" Rachel asked mildly. Dutch and Hall had their guns at about forty-five degrees below firing position. "I'd suggest putting them down nicely, boys. We have sharpshooters in this town. Remember what happened when Joe Whaley tried to intimidate the lady officer from the station?"

"Whaley was an idiot." Dutch, who seemed to be possessing the communal brain cells of the hired muscle, set his gun down slowly. Hall followed suit after a moment- maybe the few particles of brain matter were truly communal.

"You are not," Rachel said approvingly before speaking again into the communicator. "We just have two guns drawn, one in friendly hands. Repeat, one is in friendly hands. The woman in the white sweater is an ally."

"Copy."

"Rachel," Trigon said, and she knew that he was at his most dangerous. He wasn't yelling. His voice wasn't cold. Instead- it was that dangerous timbre that made him seem like she could trust him.

She shook her head, just a fraction, meeting his eyes. He didn't look away. Her head moved faster.

"Is this how it will end?"

"No." The word was quiet enough that no one else would hear. "This is."

Her hand tensed, as if she was making a fist. Oracle and the police could hear her. "Trigon has not put down his gun. Repeat, there is still a hostile with a weapon." She didn't look away from him the entire time. Comprehension came slowly, and his grip shifted on the gun- and not in a way that meant that he would put it down. His gaze was still focused on her, and she knew what deer felt staring into headlights.

"Copy," someone said over the radio- but she didn't hear.

"Rachel," he said. His voice carried, farther than it would have in a yell. His left hand brushed out, and slowly brushed errant strands of hair behind her ear. The gentle touch made her shiver, and burned into her memory. "I never thought that something like this could make me proud."

He moved, too fast for her to see- he was too close for her to dodge. He swept her legs out from under her, the very trick she had promised herself that she wouldn't fall for twice- and two guns fired. This wasn't part of the plan. There weren't any more preparations to avoid casualties- and the fake blood had been cool to the touch, even when spraying.

Real blood was much hotter.

"Dad!"

"Trigon!"

"FREEZE!" The police fanned out, guns drawn- but there was no more chaos to stop. It was over. It was finally over.


	63. Official

_You just survived the last cliffhanger in this story. It wasn't that bad, was it? (Dodges pitchforks- okay, so maybe it was a _bit_ bad.) I'm going to miss all the indignant reactions that I found whenever I put up a cliffhanger, I really am. It's enough to make me definitely consider posting a new story sooner instead of later. There will be another project. It probably will even be another AU, since I always love exploring just how they become a team and the show's version offers limited options to change things around. Without further rambling- here it is, the penultimate chapter._

**Dots Sixty-three: Official**  
She had never really known how different it was, when she wasn't practicing alone. The firing range in town had soundproofed each booth diligently. It seemed that keeping all noise in one small booth should have made the sound more concentrated, but the walls had been designed to absorb sound. The garage had not, and she didn't think the ringing in her ears would ever go away.

Angela Roth did not drop the gun. Her hands shook, but she took the time to slowly pick up her purse from the ground, unload the gun, and leave both the empty firearm and ammunition in her purse- she didn't care about the terms she had learned in town from the affable man who could have been anyone's grandfather. He had been steel and friendliness both, and had said that she and anyone else had a right to defend herself after she had been there for the fifth week in a row. In November, just after she began to realize just how much she could affect the world she lived in, he had given her a lawyer's card and told her that the guy specialized in domestic violence. He had interrupted any instinctual protest, then handed her a flier of prices for 'the regulars.' Just like that- she was a regular, and she met the experts who came to the place. She learned from all of them- and kept it a secret.

Now, it wasn't a secret anymore. She snapped her purse shut, set the plain black leather object on the floor, and only then realized that she should have kept a facial tissue in her hand. She had never been one for much makeup, but a few touches of mascara and a coat of good lipstick always made her feel a little more confident in giving orders. She really should wipe her mascara off before the tears stopped moving in ones and twos.

She felt a tissue pressed into her hand, and wiped her eyes before she could make out her daughter. She knew it was her daughter, and returned the strong hug before she took the time to glance at the diluted black on the tissue. She didn't know if she would ever stop crying again. Instead, she kept seeing the world as she had seen it looking down the black barrel- straight at Slade. She had been too late. After everything that had happened- Angela Roth had fired too late, and Trigon was dead.

She had killed Slade before he could aim for Rachel. Trigon had sent Rachel to the ground, hard, sweeping her legs out from under her when she wasn't expecting it. Trigon had saved her daughter. Slade had killed Trigon. She had killed Slade.

It would change everything she knew, but it all seemed so simple to say. Trigon saved Rachel, Slade shot Trigon, she shot Slade.

Slade had not been unconscious. He had been playing opossum, and someone should have figured it out. It would take more than a clumsy hit to the temple to render Slade Wilson unconscious- and he had kept his grip on his gun. She had been just as guilty- her attention had been on Rachel and Trigon. She had only noticed Slade at the last second, only after she had wondered just why Trigon had tensed with Rachel close to him.

She barely noticed when someone else pressed a fresh tissue into her hand. She smiled, a watered-down expression, and let Victor take the soiled one streaked with lines of mascara. She didn't need that reminder. She would have let him take the gun- but she would keep that with her, to give to the police. With all the ballistics tests they could run now, they would have their evidence. There was no premeditation, but she had killed someone. She had seen the attempts to be discreet in checking Slade's vital signs, and Trigon's, and had heard the wail of ambulances.

She allowed Gar to coax her into a chair, and smiled when he took a few seconds to cajole Rachel into sitting. The way that boy held onto her- Angela knew someone would take care of Rachel. She had no plans for the lawyer that the gun-shop owner had suggested, except to facilitate her guilty plea, and perhaps angle for a reduced sentencing. Second-degree murder was not something to be taken lightly.

"Mrs. and Ms. Roth, I am Officer Eve Phillips, chief of the FPD. Would you let me ask a few questions? Neither of you are under arrest, but I can recite your Miranda rights if you would like."

Rachel frowned. Eve had just winked at her, she thought. Her mother still had her face buried in a tissue, and her friends had quietly moved away to talk to Barbara. "I don't believe that my family has legal counsel, officer," she said. Raven and Eve knew each other- Rachel had to pretend to be a little distant from the lady officer. "Do we need a lawyer, mom?"

"No," Angela said, dabbing fiercely at her eyes. It was stupid, she shouldn't feel so bad- but she just had been starting to remember the man she had married so long ago. "We do not need a lawyer, except perhaps to get a good plea bargain in so I don't spend the years I have left in jail."

"Why would you go to jail, Mrs. Roth?" Eve asked, flipping through the two short pages of notes. Just as she had expected, she had identical testimony from Jinx and all of that crowd. They had talked for a minute- and then all offered realistically differing versions of the story.

"I shot Slade."

"Now, Mrs. Roth, I know that you've had a horrible day- but I'm sure that spending time with your daughter may improve the rougher parts." Eve glanced at her notebook, blissfully aware that she was ignoring approximately thirty-four standards, regulations, and laws. Sometimes, going against corruption included letting the government not know about a few unimportant details.

"Excuse me?" Angela's hand lost its death-grip on a soggy tissue, almost without prompting. She had the distinct feeling that she was missing something.

"I know that it hurts, Mrs. Roth," Eve said, and for a second she looked like she really did. Then- she was all business again, in the way that she moved the pen quickly across the page of her notes. "I know that you were devastated, when you heard the two shots- Slade fired first, you said? I am sure that we can find that piece of video information that showed Trigon saving your daughter- but someone loyal to him seems to have deleted all video at the time the second bullet was fired. He had the time to shoot Slade, to save his daughter- that would have earned him a bit of sympathy with the jury. Since there was no proof he did shoot Slade, even after a lifetime of violence- the jury might have let him spend the rest of his life in a garish orange jumpsuit. He probably would have been a lifer, instead of a life row resident. As it is- I'm sorry for your loss, and we will contact you about a formal statement another time."

"Officer, I-"

Rachel didn't let her mother finish. "We understand, chief. Thank you." She definitely saw Eve wink, that time- so she returned that small gesture before deciding that her mother looked shocked enough to listen. She couldn't smile, at the news, but she felt a little less worried, and held a penny tightly in her hand. This could work. Life would be better. "Mom- it's better, this way. Sometimes, lies just work out neater than the truth. We can just finish all of this now. We don't have to do it again."

"So, to start out a new policy of telling the truth- perhaps this would be a good moment to admit that I've been practicing since November. That was when I was at the hospital, wondering just what my options were with Trigon getting out of hand- and I saw you there. You weren't remembering to be distant. You were in a hospital room, looking at an unconscious boy like you could will him better just with a look, and talking to him like he could heard you.

"That day, I did two things that didn't make much sense at the time. Before I started learning just how to use a gun properly, I used a debit card that had a ridiculous balance and badgered some poor clerk into releasing hospital records. I could make up whoppers like nobody's business, in high school, so it wasn't hard. I learned that he had fairly dubious health insurance- so I paid, and told her I would keep paying."

"It was _you?_" Rachel demanded. "I tried to do just that, and all they would say was that he already had a benefactor." She blushed, realizing that Gar had heard the last part- she had never considered how she would tell him, back when she had made that rash decision.

"Mrs. Roth?"

"And that fund will not disappear with Trigon," Angela said, lifting her chin unconsciously. Her husband had died- but she had been mourning him for years, and still had the rest of her life to remember. "I will be in touch with my parents, to ask just what they thought when their daughter used her trust fund for the first time since she was young and foolish enough to give money to Trigon. The only money Trigon has of mine is one thousand dollars I lent him, and that got him where he was. As far as I am concerned, he can keep it as an investment I don't want back."

Rachel still didn't know quite what to think, and new ideas were still dawning on her. The house, of course, would be gone. The government would seize all property purchased with money gained from illegal means. She didn't much like what she had- but didn't know what it was like to live without it. "I don't think I want to stay here tonight," she said, determined to not let her gaze wander. A few tears wouldn't kill her. The sight of paramedics and a body bag would.

"Mrs. Roth, my mother told me to tell you that if you even think about a hotel, she will come over here and drag you back to our place herself. We have a guest room, and I think my mom isn't satisfied without the occasional stray to look after."

"We're strays now, are we?" Angela asked, leaving just a moment's pause for Garfield to try to rephrase before she smiled. "We are, but just for the moment. It's past time that my parents and I had a serious talk, and we are going to stop by the hospital first. That probably will help Eve's report, when it's shown that Rachel has a concussion- and don't try denying it, your head hit floor. If the police chief is going to be a trifle unofficial, the least we can do is provide her with some evidence."

"I don't need to go to the hospital for a concussion. They'll tell me I have a concussion after running way too many tests. How does that even help?"

"It will explain why you're not in school tomorrow, and why you just might not know the details that the chief has made," Angela said. "If all goes well, you really will be visiting your grandparents- but I'll call them in the morning. If all doesn't go well, I will leave Gar in charge of making sure you are properly recovered while I drive out there to argue in relative peace."

Rachel should have protested she was fine- but she was done lying. "Maybe the hospital wouldn't be a completely bad idea," she allowed, gingerly touching the back of her head. "I think I'm bleeding." She had hit the ground hard, when her father had saved her, and perhaps they should have a look at her ankle. The ribs they could do nothing about, but she could get help for the ankle.

There were two ambulances on the scene, but Victor drove them to the hospital. He had a car there, no one else was driving his car, and she didn't want to see the physical evidence. She should feel worse- but she didn't. She and her mother listened to the diagnosis of a concussion and agreed to not aggravate the area. The rather surprised doctor also listed four cracked ribs, several severe bruises, and a badly sprained ankle. He could only offer an ankle brace and painkillers. Shelia was there to drive them home and introduce them to homemade chicken noodle soup, after Rachel made a final stop.

She had been debating the idea for a month, and finally had her decision. She would carry enough scars, and she didn't really qualify for the mark of Scathe. She wasn't a killer. She found a doctor, made an appointment, and the independence of it was just as healing as chicken noodle soup.

Mother and daughter understood, the first of many new things that they both would know. Angela wiped away the few straggling tears with a napkin. Rachel wondered if the damp feeling at the corners of her eyes should be tears. She should grieve more- but maybe she had her own ways. There was a final reason to not mourn- things would only get better, as horrible as it was. With Trigon and Slade gone, and the organization mostly open to the FBI- life would improve.

The FBI wouldn't be disappointed, she hoped, that a few names were left off the rosters. According to carefully inserted old reports she had just modified, quite a few people had been fired for threatening to go to the police. She had added the blank reports weeks ago, and had left them there to leave something with the correct timestamp. Jane and everyone she vouched for had 'disappeared' to various parts of the country.

Things were only going to get better- and that was the thought that finally let her cry for her father. She loved him, but without him- she finally didn't have to pretend.

Kori called the next afternoon with a question to ask. Rachel left the phone on the side table before taking a minute to look into her borrowed closet. She and her mother had packed up all personal belongings they wanted to keep, and had only brought four packing boxes and two garment bags out of the house. One box was entirely filled with books.

"Well?" Kori asked after a few minutes, when she heard Rachel pick up the phone again.

"It fits," Rachel said, still wearing the dress and looking in the mirror. It didn't matter what people would think, if they saw her with Gar. She thought that it was past time they were open about such a thing. It didn't matter that her right ankle was in a brace, or that she had bandages lightly wrapped around her torso. The splotch of purple on her face didn't matter. She wasn't anyone else- and the girl she was thought the dress fit.

"Good." Kori let that end the conversation. She had everything she needed- of course there still was grieving, but Rachel would be just fine. That meant that Gar wouldn't worry, Victor and Jinx wouldn't hover, and that she could go out to dinner with Richard. If a friend needed her, she would be there- but if Rachel would only feel claustrophobic with so many people fussing over her, life could go on more or less as usual. Kori was sure that none of them qualified for matters going on as normal, and wouldn't trade that for anything.


	64. Epilogue

_This is it. An epilogue, conclusion, and general wrap-up for the longest story I've ever written. So, since there isn't an academy to thank, I'll just have to go over the many people who have put up with quite a bit. My Spanish teacher of high school actually deserves some credit, for running such a boring class that I could write large portions of this story and still manage to get the highest grade in the class. (In April, she made the discovery that I was not writing anything related to Spanish- except a few parts that were written in for Kori.) My parents are still learning to cope with my odd habits that replace typical teenage pursuits. (My father is much farther along in this.) Even if she only has dealt with me since just the last week of August, my roommate has been more than tolerant for a few odd habits that result in many long periods of typing away and not hearing much of any conversation. My English teacher, however imposing in his demands, has ensured that my writing habits have improved, especially in trickier parts of grammar. (Thanks to his class, I can skip the university's freshman writing class and start with something a bit more interesting.)_

_This is going to be long, but I do have to acknowledge all contributing parties. First, there is the usual trio of suspects- Lauren, Sean, and Julie. Lauren listened to the rant that starts this story, Sean put up with many, many disjointed conversations, and Julie introduced me to fanfiction in the first place. Then, the online people- it's always a relief to meet other writers. They tend to be much more tolerant of rambling and eccentric habits. Knowing just why Raven and Starfire are different is a bonus. TheUbu (who wouldn't want to know a Mountie-to-be who can write like he does?), They-Call-Me-Orange (my first and only minion), Kayasuri-N (the best kind of crazy, and the best kind of writer and listener), and someone who's been there since before I posted this blasted story a year ago. So, you want someone to really thank for the insane story- thank dr.evil99, who made this idea not something resting in the (usually doomed to rest forever as something that won't quite work) Ideas file._

_For any interested in the timing, these events occur one month after the last chapter. (In the story's timeline, 63 happened on April 13th (a Monday), and 64 occurs on May 15th, (a Friday).) This was posted exactly one year after the first chapter, and marks the fifth seventy-page notebook completely written through in ideas, plot, and characters. All involved notebooks have been honorably retired to the bookshelf. _

_For anyone who isn't tired of reading something of mine, there is a new story ready for viewing. Red will not be as long- but I hope it can be just as interesting as people have found this. It's another AU, but those are that much fun._

_Thanks for reading- it's been my pleasure to write this story._

_They-Call-Me-Orange- this chapter's yours. Rough weeks aren't all bad- and you're just awesome enough to get to claim the last chapter._

**Chapter Sixty-Four: Epilogue**  
"Does anyone want to place bets? That's the only thing I can think of that would make waiting at all interesting."

"Victor, I thought your girlfriend was the bookie," Richard said. "As for bets- I bet that Kori _was _ready at six."

"When she told us to have the limo here, so we of course had to be here at five forty-five," Gar said. "And Jinx isn't a bookie, she's a- what was the term?"

"Odds specialist," Victor supplied. "She takes money, and only reports a few transactions the legal way- she was introduced to her employer with her work record involving Trigon. Mrs. Roth kept it quiet for awhile, that her parents owned that racetrack."

"I still wish I could show that reporter a thing or two about keeping quiet," Gar said darkly. "It was two weeks after the fact! There was no need to print the direct link between Rachel and Trigon, there just wasn't."

"It wasn't an appropriate headline," Richard agreed. "Bruce agreed with that, so he asked Tim to help him find a few personal things about the 'anonymous' author of the article. Oracle found him, and then Batman stopped by after hours to teach the reporter a thing or two about nice manners before handing him into court- violation of an FBI gag order."

"If Eve hadn't been furious, she might have approved- I know she let Rae, Jinx, and Mrs. Roth into the house to collect the personal things the FBI didn't need to grub over. She's tired of all the bureaucracy and people appropriating her agents, and will only be happy when they're gone- they still don't like the bullet trajectories, but they can't find any other evidence."

"You know, Gar, most people can talk about their girlfriends and never bring up the chief of police or FBI gag orders," Victor said.

"Yeah? I think Richard's the only one here who has any shot of that."

"Just because Kori's the closest to normal…" Richard said. "Well, as close as any of us get," he amended. "I don't think anybody who's going to be in this limo qualifies- except the driver, but he had his MP3 player blasting about half an hour ago."

"We have moments of being normal." Victor didn't try to make them seem commonplace. "We're going to prom, and in under a month, we'll all be sticking funny hats on our heads and listening to speeches before making the walk across the stage, and we're all going to be in a semi-dormitory next year."

"Most freshmen don't get custom-made rooms," Gar said, still very pleased with the arrangement. With joint efforts from his mom and Mrs. Roth, his room was relatively sanitary. It actually was easier to navigate, that way- and wasn't a makeshift black hole. Rachel had made him promise his new room would stay at least that clean.

"Most freshmen have sent their majors in, though. Is Rachel finally done burying herself in brochures at lunch? Reading everything they shove at you at orientation can't be good for you." Richard didn't want to know how many forests had been destroyed in his stack of reference materials alone.

"She just sent in the letter this afternoon," Gar said. "Before Kori stole her, we dropped it off at the post office."

"What's her major?"

"Undecided."

**.Hers.**  
"Undecided? That's a good choice," Kori said, busily making near-invisible adjustments to the lay of Rachel's skirt. "I have a major all set, but it's pretty clear what I wanted to go into. Besides- I'm used to being a bit odd, so my languages major is nothing out of my usual lack of ordinary."

"Just how many languages are you majoring in?" Rachel asked. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're a Chinese-Swahili-English-Spanish translator?"

"Yes. The dean didn't believe me, when I called. He speaks Spanish, English, and Portuguese, so he could test two of my claims. He thought that maybe I was looking for scholarships, and would switch my major."

Rachel kept her smile at Kori's indignation minimal. "What happened to change his mind?"

"The Chinese professor passed his office just when the dean thought I perhaps had learned some words, or was just an imitator who could nail the accent. The Chinese professor made it very clear that I was speaking correct Mandarin. By that point, they were interested enough to call the African languages professor in. He speaks with an accent more commonly found in Zulu, but could verify the Swahili."

Rachel didn't bother to stop a smile. Only Kori could cause havoc just by calling in to ask why her major was not listed on paperwork. "It did go well, in the end?" She saw no change in the dress, but knew better than to mention it. Kori was still perfecting the drape, and she wouldn't ruin whatever effect there might be.

"They already have assured me that they will work with the advising board to fix my schedule to best fit what I can do with so many languages," she said. "Richard is looking into a career that will let him keep something a little more physical involved, and has been talking to advisors about that."

"Victor has been relentlessly pursued by the electronics engineering program," Jinx said, when twenty minutes of silent protest (it was _not _sulking) had gone unnoticed. "It seems that a few people at the police department accidentally let it slip just who was behind their new transmitters, and the college was interested."

"There was no need for that sulking," Kori said, ignoring the severe death-glare. If she and her sister could share a bathroom in the morning, one semi-reformed criminal with dress issues was nothing to worry about. Kori had survived the hairdryer wars, after all. "The dress looks lovely on you- and your hair looks much better now that the dye has finally rinsed out." Kori saved the comment about Jinx's eyes. Since that day a month ago, Jinx hadn't gone back to the pink contacts. It had taken two weeks of persuasion to get Jinx to ease away from the pink hair dye, and two hours at a hair salon to scrub out the last of the pink color. The lurid shade would have clashed with the dress Kori and Rachel had agreed on.

"Kori-"

"Do you think that I should fix your hair?" Kori asked, tilting her head thoughtfully. "I do believe that your left side is a trifle higher than your right."

Glaring, Jinx put a defensive hand to the pale blonde hair the stylist had spent an hour curling, spraying, and otherwise maiming. "You, Kori Anders, are an evil, evil girl."

Kori only smiled contently. "I know, Jane."

Rachel laughed. "Kori, I don't know whether to be proud or horrified that I've influenced you so much."

"Proud. Definitely proud."

Rachel wondered just whose misfortune was behind that smirk. "What did you do now, Kori?"

"I told the boys that we would be ready half an hour ago," she said, making a final tug at the skirt. "There- look in the mirror."

Rachel had a platitude ready to appease Kori (she did not need a repeat of skirt-twitching), but she stopped. She blinked as hard as she dared with an unfamiliar coat of mascara in place. Whatever she had done, it worked. "Kori, you are an evil genius."

She beamed. "I know. Now that they've been waiting a half hour, their reactions will be a bit more genuine- not that they could hide much from us."

Jinx gave herself a final look in the mirror. Okay, it wasn't the usual look- but she wasn't necessarily trying to look like she could kick anyone's ass without really trying. For something like prom, she could look like she could kick anyone's ass- but they just weren't worth her bother.

Kori saw the small changes in posture. Half of language wasn't in words. Body language said much, much more. "Let's go," Kori said. "All three of us at the same time, so they can be fully impressed."

"I don't see how they could avoid it." Jinx made a final adjustment to a gold-colored shoe. Her skirt made a rippling line that didn't follow any pattern she was familiar with, but she did like the shoes- they looked almost like a few illustrations from Grecian myth she had seen, with a few modern twists. When her date was that much taller, heels were nice things to have. "Okay," she said, a little begrudging as she gave the mirror a glance. "I like the dress."

Kori only nodded, satisfied. Victory was best enjoyed silently. The fact that it brought less reprisals was only part of the bonus.

**.His.**  
"You're sure they said six?" Gar said. He was too bored to yawn. "The housekeeper wouldn't even let us in, but I know that she and Kori are close. This was premeditated. Kori's making us sit around in a rented limo, in tuxes, in front of her house."

"She probably wants us to have properly shocked reactions," Victor said. "I know that Jinx has been letting her hair get less and less pink, but I can't tell what color it is- any time I look, she gets defensive."

"I knew I should have shoved a pack of cards in the inside pocket- but Selina would have killed me. She really would have- she was staying over, and she just happened to smile like the Cheshire cat when Kori dropped a tie in my hand." Richard couldn't look too bored. His date was behind the waiting, and he had to walk the thin line between looking not bored enough and being the most bored of the group.

"Well, they can't take too much longer," Victor said. "I know that Jane won't stand for too much primping- even if she probably is protesting silently. Anyone else would call it sulking- but trust me, we have established that she does _not _sulk, emphasis needed. When she's off frowning, it means she's-"

Gar waited for a moment. Victor wasn't finishing his sentence. "Victor?"

Richard knew. There was only one thing that could stop someone mid-sentence like that. "Turn around." Suddenly, he was very glad that they had rolled down all windows in the limo in an attempt to get some breeze. He knew that Kori would be most put out if he didn't look properly stunned.

Jane felt very gratified to get a proper reaction- and was quite happy that Victor had ended up facing the house. The housekeeper had told Kori that the guys had been shifting around nervously for over an hour.

"Anyone ever tell you you'll catch flies like that?"

He offered an arm, almost automatically. She blamed the damn dress, but she took it far more comfortably than she usually did. She could have gotten into the car herself, of course- but she might as well give him something to do. Besides- it was an excuse to get a little closer. Maybe, if she was a little closer, she could hear just what he was saying- she didn't detect any words, but his mouth was moving a little. She leaned a little closer- and he stopped. Well. That hadn't worked.

"Kori?" Jane said, not that her remark would be heard. Kori was rather focused on Richard, at the moment. "I take back what I said. The dress isn't even pink." Out of the overly bright lights, it looked a proper shade of burgundy- and it matched his tie. She took the moment to straighten it, and decided that she just might take back a few choice comments uttered during the "up-do." Then again, she might not- she had sat through something called an up-do. She was entitled to a bit of coarseness.

"Wow." It wasn't the most coherent declaration of admiration, perhaps- but Richard had learned that blurting out the first thing that came to mind in these situations actually worked. "Kori- you- and that- I mean- you look incredible."

She smiled. "Sit down, Richard, you're going to trip over nothing at all." She helped him. Contact didn't do much to help him resume full brain function, but neither did leaning against him a little. Both were fun anyway- he would recover in time, maybe even in time to remember that he had the tickets and would have to give them to the person at the door. She straightened his tie, then held it against her shoulder for a second to compare the color. It was a perfect match- not that it was very hard to match black to black.

Rachel was starting to get a trifle self-conscious. He still hadn't said anything, and she knew that she still had a scar showing. The back was too low, and she still didn't think that so much leg should really be out in the air, and the neckline was lower than she would have chosen, and she just would look like a bleached out black-and-white movie poster, and-

No, that was a completely different look. The neckline was just fine, he had noticed her scars long ago, she could see just where he was looking, and there was nothing wrong with where the neckline fell. Besides, it was time to try something new- and all white was definitely a new look for her.

She smiled, and it wasn't completely shy. She took support with the handhold, just in case, and took a seat in the limo. Gar would probably stop shaking a little in a minute. She slipped her hand into his- which didn't completely help, but maybe he could wait a minute. He would recover. She felt only a trace of a blush, and it felt good.

"Rae?" he said, a few minutes later. His voice was only a little choked, and it wasn't the moving limousine making something sound a bit odd.

"Yes?"

"I do get a minute to come up with something that even starts to describe how amazing you look, right?"

Her smile widened, just a touch. "As many minutes as you like."

"Good, because I might need all night."

**.Theirs.**  
"So- is there anything else to do?" Rachel asked.

"Well, what have we done?" Jane wasn't about to proclaim herself expert on all things prom. Until just over a month ago, she hadn't thought seriously about attending such a thing- let alone going with people who called her by her given name just as often as her taken name. "We did manage to all arrive with tickets," she said, avoiding the rather interesting fiasco when Victor had managed to misplace the tickets she had casually swiped from his inside pocket.

"And dinner passed without too many issues," Gar said. Nobody mentioned the meatball near-tragedy. Someone bright on the committee of eleventh graders organizing the prom had added spaghetti with meatballs to the meal. One oddly cooked meatball had bounced and come hazardously close to landing on Rachel's dress. He had caught it with the napkin he had been using to casually wipe up a spill from his over-filled water glass. He had been ridiculously proud of the odd feat- but had earned a kiss, so he couldn't have been completely exaggerating.

"We danced," Kori said. That was an understatement, to the others- she and Richard had (of course) done more than the time-honored method of swaying slightly while moving just enough to maintain the illusion of dancing. He had bribed the DJ enough to get a slow song that could actually fit some kind of ballroom dance that may or may not have been the tango. All Jane needed to know was that Kori and her cross-backed dress had lived up to all expectations- there was no shift in that dress's bodice, even during a very dramatic bend. Since Jane had created that (fictional) point to help Rachel coax Kori into trying it on, she was pleased to know that she hadn't been lying.

"Well, some of us slow-danced," Victor said. He hadn't stepped on Jane's foot, which had been his point of worry- but she had rolled her eyes at his concern. She had pointed out her metallic shoes. They were easy to see- and if he couldn't see them, then he would just have to trust that she would keep dancing even with a broken toe. At that, she had pressed close enough to make him keep his eyes on her instead of her toes. After that, she enjoyed dancing much more.

"We did manage to either ignore or antagonize irritating people in range," Richard said mildly. Gar's spectacular offense towards an encroaching cheerleader was a thing to discuss when there was a suitable trophy engraved to celebrate the occasion- the look on her face had been priceless. He and Kori were older news, in the school's gossip- but he still directed cursory glares at anyone staring too much at Kori.

"We're set, then?" Rachel asked. From their chosen table in the back corner, she didn't need to hurt her throat by yelling to be heard. "Because they stopped playing decent music three songs ago, and we'll have other times to dance."

"What do you have in mind?" Richard didn't know exactly what was normal, after prom. There was no way any of them were renting a hotel room, for obvious reasons. Bowling would be crowded. There were no good movies out. Most places in the city closed before midnight. It couldn't be a supermarket. There was no way he was going to a twenty-four hour supermarket.

"Perhaps Jinx could borrow a Halloween mask, if she wishes to conceal her identity," Kori said thoughtfully, when Rachel only shrugged. "The Titans can always make a final run, correct? Even if Tr- even if there is less crime," she continued, before she could touch on something that still hurt, "we can ensure that people remember that Forston is home to the Titans."

"I don't know," Rachel said hesitantly. "We haven't been Titans for awhile, and- well, I just don't know."

"For old times, Rachel," Victor said.

"Just to prove that no one should set up shop in this town," Richard added.

"To help the police." Gar didn't push her, but he would offer a reason.

"So we are not forgotten too soon." Kori did not want all they had done to be undone by something as simple as not appearing.

Rachel folded her arms over her chest, refusing to watch how the necklace Jinx had found spread light to her ring. Jinx wasn't going to contribute to the argument, but Rachel still had a position to keep. Someone had to play the devil's advocate, after all. "Aren't you forgetting something? One of the important reasons that this team was started?"

"Well- yeah. The common good."

"To do something right."

"To fix up this town- which we did."

"To be an example."

"No," she said, but the act of mock sternness lasted only for that word. The act split into a smile- her straight face was horribly out of shape, but she didn't care. "We lived out some kind of fantasy that most people would normally leave suppressed, ran around in outfits that contained some spandex, kicked some butt, and had a blast doing it." Her smile was a nearly wicked expression that no one would have pictured just a year ago. "And, one other thing," she said, looking from teammate to teammate. Jinx was a part of the team, sort of, and was watching her with the rest, waiting for some wise word. "Shotgun!"

They laughed, but no one could make more than a half-hearted protest. That had been a constant from the beginning, after all, and no matter what upheavals their world would go through- some things never changed. They always would be friends, they always would be the only people to understand the collected inside jokes, the first person to call shotgun always earned the passenger seat, and they would always Titans. The Titans would change, over time- but never that much.

**THE END**


End file.
